


Darkness There, and Nothing...

by LA_Knight



Series: The Lokisenna [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4947859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LA_Knight/pseuds/LA_Knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A single light in the darkness, a single whisper in the silence... what is it worth? How much blood should be spilled to protect it? Would it be worth damning your own soul? </p><p>The mad criminal Prince Loki is at last safely ensconced in an Asgardian prison, sentence by Odin Allfather to remain there for the rest of his life for crimes committed against the people of Midgard and against Prince Thor, Loki's "twin" brother, heir to the Asgardian throne.</p><p>Locked away in the depths of the Asgardian dungeons, Loki begins obsessively crafting mysterious drawings and letters. Sent by Queen Frigga to determine the nature of her foster son's half-crazed obsession, Thor begins to question Loki...and takes the first step on a path of discovery about his "twin" that will reveal more than he could have ever dreamed possible, including the real reasons behind his attack on Midgard and the murder of Agent Coulson.</p><p>Their names are Thea and Sophie. Their identities are a secret...but Loki is finally willing to reveal everything.</p><p>Takes place before, during, and after The Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mea Culpa, Sea Culpa

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: so this idea came to me in a dream, which normally doesn't work for me, but this time it did. Yay! So here's the first chapter of my Loki fic. I hope you guys enjoy what I've got planned. Let me know what you think. I'm posting on AO3 as a favor to a friend who doesn't like most other fanfic sites. Hugs!
> 
> Soundtrack: I got the idea for a soundtrack from the genius Alydia Rackham. I don't normally tell people what I listened to for a fic, but it worked for her, so why not? For the first scene, I listened to "Knowing You by Heart" from The Little Princess (1993) and "Love Theme" from The Dark Crystal. For the second scene of this fic, I listened to "Here Without You" by Three Days Grace, "Dark Waltz" as sung by Jackie Evancho and Haley Westenra (separately), "First Snow" from the film The Fountain, and "Skyfall" by Adele (not necessarily in that order).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the behest of his mother, Thor goes to speak to the brother that betrayed him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning: this fic contains an in-depth look at mental illness. This chapter contains themes of mental illness in general, PTSD, self-harm, depression, suicidal ideation, and tense situations. This chapter contains instances of self-harm and blood. There will be discussions about dead people, war, murder, emotional parental abuse, and treachery.

Thor strode to the long table in the currently empty Great Hall—empty, that was, save for his mother. The lamplight burnished her long hair as it tumbled about her shoulders, reflected off the slender golden chain about her throat. The moment Thor's boot-steps echoed off the smooth stone floor, Frigga turned to her firstborn with beseeching eyes.

"Well?" His mother asked softly when the Asgardian prince settled onto the bench beside her. She reached out and clasped his large hand with her slender one. "Did you learn anything? You two have always been so close; did he say anything to you?"

The prince bit back a sigh. His mother and brothers had asked him to take on the heavy task of spying on Loki, his foster brother, in an attempt to discern something in regards to what Loki had done on Midgard and before, in Asgard, during the king's time in the Odinsleep. After receiving bizarre reports of the second prince's behavior over the last few months, the king and queen had deemed it prudent to discover more—if it was possible. So they had sent Thor.

"He…spoke to me," Thor murmured. Which was fairly astonishing in and of itself. Loki hadn't said a word to anyone in the nine months he'd been imprisoned in Odin's dungeons, except to make a few innocuous requests of Frigga. "But the things he said…" Thor shook his head. _It's your fault, damn you! Yours…and mine…_ "I did not understand him."

Frowning, Frigga took both her son's hands in hers and gently squeezed. "Tell me what happened, dearest. Perhaps I might be able to make sense of things."

Loki had always been close to their mother, Thor acknowledged silently. Perhaps she had the right of it. Clearing his throat, Thor began, "I went to the dungeons as we'd agreed. All was silent, except for the sound of a pencil against paper…"

.

Scritch-scritch-scritch.

_The gentle scrape of charcoal against parchment was the only sound in the vast corridor, save for the crackling of the torches in their wall sconces and the snap of flames in the hearth of one of the cells._

_Most prisoners of Asgard's king couldn't lay claim to a fireplace, or a sumptuous bed draped in emerald and black, or a table with a blown-glass oil lamp. Most prisoners weren't given books, sheaves of paper, bottles of ink, the finest quill pens, and sticks of charcoal to amuse themselves with during the long days of their captivity._

_But then, most prisoners weren't Loki Odinson, second prince of Asgard._

_Thor watched Loki from the shadows beyond the torchlight. His younger adopted brother bent industriously over the black-wood table, sketching something. Dark brows knitted together, lips pressed into a thin white line, Loki worked almost feverishly at a drawing his brother couldn't see. Pale fingers grasped the stick of charcoal so forcefully that Thor was surprised it didn't snap in his grip._

_Loki leaned closer to the table, his hair spilling like ink over his shoulders and across his brow. The Asgardian noticed that his younger brother had actually bitten his lower lip so hard in concentration that a pearl of blood had risen up on the flesh._

_Suddenly Loki stopped, jerking to a halt as if frozen. He stared down at the sketch, brow furrowed, face utterly bloodless. Emerald eyes blazed with something that might have been madness…or anguish. The charcoal pencil fell from his fingers to hit the floor. He swallowed audibly; Thor heard it even from where he stood. A trembling fingertip stretched out to caress down the length of the parchment in a strange pattern._

_Thor frowned. The guards had spoken to Odin and Frigga about this odd behavior, and neither king nor queen could account for it. Balder, Tyr, Víðarr, and Hermod had considered it Thor's duty—as the eldest—to investigate. So here he was, and the utter desolation on Loki's face astonished him. The guards had said nothing about_ that. _What was the drawing of—what_ could _it be of—that it moved Loki this way? Thor was about to open his mouth to call out to his little brother, forgetting momentarily the need for silence and secrecy, when Loki lunged to his feet, snatched up the drawing, and making three quick strides to the hearth, cast it into the flames. Then he half-crouched, half-fell before the fireplace to watch the paper burn to ash and smoke._

_"What do they know of darkness?" Loki rasped to the fire. One hand lay on his knee, gripping so tight his knucklebones stood out stark against the flesh. "What do they know of the choking blackness of the void? What do they know of isolation? Nothing." He bowed his head. A tremor shivered through his tall, lean frame. "Nothing at all."_

_"Loki?" Thor could remain silent no longer. Stepping from the shadows of the prison corridor into the sienna light of the flickering torches, he approached the transparent ensorcelled glass that separated his younger brother from the outside world._

_Loki's head whipped around. Something savage flashed across the pale face before the pseudo-Æsir smoothed his features to careful blankness. He rose slowly to his feet. The blackness of his shirt and trousers, with only the deep emerald green tunic to alleviate the darkness, made him seem even paler than normal. Almost sickly. Loki arched one knife-thin black brow at his foster brother._

_"Come to keep me company, Brother?" A small smile played at the corner of Loki's mouth. "Come to ease my loneliness?"_

_Thor scowled. Any touch of sympathy or concern he'd felt evaporated like night mist in the morning sun at his brother's words. "Do not mock me, Loki. I came merely to see what mischief you might be getting up to."_

_Slender but powerful shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug. "Another coup, as you can plainly see," his younger brother replied with a familiar—and irritating—smirk. "Even within the walls of the stoutest prison, a man can conquer the world." A shadow appeared to flit across emerald eyes. Loki's arrogance seemed to falter, and the smirk wilted at the edges. "Yes…with loyalty and conviction, or even merely with desperation at his side…or perhaps madness…"_

_"Don't pretend you're being clever," Thor snapped. There was something about Loki's words that left him unsettled. He let that unease morph into anger buzzing like hornets in his blood. "What would_ you _know of loyalty?"_

_With another mercurial shift of temper, the other prince spun on his heel with a wordless snarl and paced the length of his cell. Every movement snapped and jerked with edgy tension. Thor suppressed another surge of unease. Until his incarceration here in Asgard, Loki had never been so…changeable. So quick to spin from one mood to another. When rage had taken him in the past, there had always been a build-up, some signs of warning. Not this rabid fury that seemed to spring from nowhere._

_Perhaps the Midgardian known as Banner had been right all those months ago when he'd claimed Loki was mad. Like a bag of cats, he'd said. And mayhap Loki_ had _truly succumbed to actual madness…_

Desperation…or perhaps madness…

_"What do I know of loyalty?" Loki asked softly. Rage—and something else, something dark and cold and terrible, something Thor did not wish to examine too closely—gave the mild words a razor's edge. "When have I ever stolen something truly precious to you, Brother?"_

_"You tried to kill me_ , Brother. _I deem my life very precious, thank you."_

_To his amazement—and fury—Loki scoffed at the accusation._

_"Let us say I did," Loki hissed, reminding Thor that his brother had never actually_ admitted _that he'd tried to kill the crown prince during his exile to Midgard. "What of it? It was a conflict betwixt the pair of us, no one else."_

_Now it was Thor who scoffed. "So those innocent people whose homes you destroyed—"_

_Loki held up a sharp finger. "Homes, you said. Was anyone killed?"_

_Thor lifted a brow and folded his arms across his broad chest_. "I _was. The Destroyer's blow broke my neck. If not for Mjölnir's returning to my hand, I would have died. What say you to that?"_

 _"I say that my point has been made: I attacked you, and no other_ person. _The Destroyer only attacked Sif and the Three because they sought to interfere with it, which_ you _allowed_. I _kept the combat between the two of us. I never killed someone in an attempt to get at you. I kept it between the pair of us, involving no one else!"_

"I _involved no one else!" Thor protested._

"Liar!" _Loki roared suddenly, with enough venom that Thor actually stepped back from him. The guards shifted restlessly. Thor tried to speak, but now whatever words had been festering inside his brother spewed forth, and would not be halted by anything Thor could do._

 _"It's_ your _fault, damn you! Your fault the Chitauri…" Loki dropped back against the white stone wall of his prison and slumped to the floor, defeat etched in every line of his face, every angle of his body. "Your fault…and mine. The slaughter, the pain, all that innocent blood…all of it for naught, and all because you couldn't let me alone."_

 _Thor took a single step toward his brother. His shaking hands convulsed into fists. Rage and disbelief twined together in a thorny tangle in his breast. "Let you alone? Let you_ alone?" _Thor's voice rose to a leonine roar with every word. "Let you butcher helpless Midgardians, slaughter countless innocents, so that you, in your arrogance and callous disregard for life, could rule Midgard? I should have let you destroy an entire world, all so that you could be their king?"_

"No!" _Loki roared back, surging to his feet. Wild-eyed, the prince yelled, "I was trying to_ save them!"

 _"Save who? The Midgardians? You mowed them down without a thought, without one regret!" Venom had been building up in Thor as well. He didn't know how long it had been fermenting inside him—since learning of Loki's betrayal? His attempt to steal the Asgardian throne? Since he'd murdered Coulson?—but he would spill that poison now, and let Loki drink it to the dregs. "You're a liar, a murderer, a traitor! You attempted to save no one except yourself_ , Laufeyson!" _Loki jerked, recoiling as if he'd been stabbed. "Who were you trying to save, and for what?" Thor demanded, voice dripping derision. "Hmmm? Answer me if you can! And tell the truth for once!"_

_At first he thought Loki would fly at him, attempt to hurl some spell despite the transparent shielding protecting him and dampening Loki's magic. For several heartbeats, a twisted expression of half-mad—rage? Pain? Turmoil?—twisted Loki's face. His eyes burned green as rushlights at twilight. But he didn't try to attack his foster brother. Instead, he merely trudged back to the table and slumped heavily into the chair. He dropped his head into his hands. Sighed._

_"Yes…I know I am a murderer, Brother. How well I know it. Do I despise myself for it? Do I mourn the blood on my hands?" Loki lifted his head, draping his arms across his thighs. His hands dangled limply between his knees. He scoffed softly at his brother. "You've already decided that. What hope is there of changing your mind? I tell you there is none. And a liar…so is the man you and I both called 'Father,' yet you don't hold it against him. As for treachery, well, my loyalty belongs to another. That's all there is to it, I'm afraid."_

_"To who?" Thor demanded. "To Thanos?"_

_A bitter, humorless smile twisted Loki's mouth. "No. He will die one day, by my hand, for what he did to…" The anguished expression he'd worn when studying the burned drawing returned. Something cold pulsed like an ache in Thor's chest. What made his little brother look like that? "…to them," Loki concluded in a voice that was nearly a whisper._

_Baffled now, the anger draining away to leave him slightly numb and out of breath, the golden-haired prince demanded, "To who, Loki? Who are you talking about?"_

_When Loki lifted his head to look at Thor, Thor found himself speechless. The look of bitter, icy hate in his brother's eyes was like a blow to the belly. Even in the midst of their battles on the Bifröst and Stark Tower, there had never been this deathly-cold loathing in his little brother's eyes._

_"Your ignorance excuses nothing," Loki spat. "Their blood is still on your hands. On the hands of Thanos and his Other. And," here his voice dropped to a broken rasp, "and on my own." Turning from his bewildered audience, he added softly, "I know my sins well. They are carved into my flesh and bones. Go from me, Thor. Torment me no longer."_

_"Loki…"_ _But his brother did not turn back. Feeling as if something vital was even now slipping from his grasp, Thor murmured, "I will be back to finish this later, Brother. I will expect an answer to my question." With an oddly heavy heart, the crown prince turned and strode away._

.

Bewildered, Frigga listened to her son's recitation to the end. Shook her head.

"I…I don't know what he could mean, _who_ he could mean." Tracing the silky smooth grain of the table with the tip of one finger, frowning, she shook her head again. "I cannot fathom what Loki means, except that…perhaps he somehow blames you for the deaths of the Midgardians during the conflict."

Thor scowled. "It was hardly _my_ fault he decided to invade with an army of savage Chitauri ready to slaughter anyone they came across. He'd have to be mad to blame me for _that_."

In a voice as soft as falling snow, Frigga murmured, "Perhaps…perhaps he truly is mad."

The scowl melted from Thor's face and he sighed. Pressing his mother's hand in tender reassurance, he said, "Don't worry, Mother. I will go back to him tomorrow and see if he'll speak to me again. Maybe we can discover something."

"What hope is there for Loki, Thor?"

He didn't know. But if there _was_ hope for his brother, Thor vowed silently that he would find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: so…that's my prologue. What do you guys think? Let me know! I love reviews/critiques, and I love to hear from my readers.  
> br>  
> Just so we're clear, although no obvious female love interest appears in this first chapter, I just want to be clear that this fic is not slash. I'm trying some very new, very different things for me with this fic. So the female protagonist and love interest is more of a secondary character and my main focus will be on Loki's point of view (and Thor as an outside observer looking in).  
> br>  
> Have a nice day, you guys! Hugs to everyone!  
> Concerning the Titles: The chapter title refers to two things—the song "Hellfire" in Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and the Latin phrase used in that song. "Mea Culpa" literally means "my mistake," and "sea culpa" means "your mistake," but it can also be translated as "my fault"/"your fault." So the title of the prologue is literally "My Fault, Your Fault."


	2. Let Go of the Truth…This Is Just a Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Loki falls deeper into madness, letters are written to the dead and a single name is revealed to Thor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains themes of mental illness in general, PTSD, self-harm, depression, suicidal ideation, and tense situations. This chapter contains instances of self-harm and blood, as well as mentions of fraternal emotional abuse. There will be discussions about dead people, war, murder, emotional parental abuse, and treachery.
> 
> Soundtrack: so for the first scene, I listened to "Assassin's Creed III" and "Song of the Caged Bird" by Lindsey Stirling, and "Into the Open Air" from Disney's Brave. For the first half of the second scene, I listened to "Dance Me to the End of Love" by The Civil Wars, "The Girl in the Garden" by SJ Tucker, and "Total Eclipse of the Heart" by Bonnie Tyler. For the second half of the second scene, I listened to, "Mad World" as sung by Adam Lambert, "Learn to Be Lonely" from The Phantom of the Opera, "Skyfall" by Adele, "Love Theme" from The Dark Crystal, "Simple and Clean" by Utada Hikaru, and "Journey to Fenland" from Snow White & the Huntsman.

**Chapter One** **  
** **Let Go of the Truth…This Is Just a Game**

.

.

Thor studied his wan reflection in the looking glass of his bedchamber, wondering what he was doing. Was he really going to go back to see Loki _again_? He'd been to visit his younger brother in the dungeons every day for the last two fortnights—ever since Loki's startling accusation that blood of _someone_ , perhaps those Midgardians killed during the Chitauri invasion, was on Thor's hands as well as his adopted brother's—but Loki had said not a word since then. Thor had by turns pleaded, threatened, and cajoled, all to no avail. His brother would say nothing, _do_ nothing, while Thor was present in the dungeon corridor outside his cell. The moment Loki heard Thor coming, he would stop whatever he was doing and sit, silent and immobile, in a chair staring into the fire.

With a sigh, the son of Odin's blood leaned back on the bench where he sat until his head touched the cold stone wall. He closed his eyes wearily. Only the distant roar of the sea and the chirp of crickets singing farewell to the day broke the silence of his bedroom. It gave Thor the quiet he needed to think. What could he do this evening that he hadn't done over the last four weeks? What could coax Loki into explaining himself?

A soft knock at his door pulled Thor from his musings. Smoothing a hand over his hair, he called, "Enter." At his entreaty, Odin's youngest son stepped into the room. Immediately upon seeing Balder, some of Thor's tension eased.

"Good evening, Brother," Balder said softly, his deep voice rumbling through the room.

It still surprised Thor how his littlest brother had grown up. He stilled remembered when it had been little Balder running on his short child's legs in a hopeless effort to chase down Thor, Loki, Víðarr, and Tyr in an effort to join in on the revelries of the older princes. Now Balder was a man—tall, broad-shouldered, having already been blooded in battle, with the strength and bearing of one of Asgardian's warrior princes. He hadn't come of age yet, but no one doubted his courage or his strength.

"Good evening."

"Are you going to see Loki today?" Balder asked when Thor said nothing more. "Has he spoken again?" Thor shook his head, and Balder sighed. "Mother is certain you can do something with him where the rest of us have failed. What do you think?"

A small pain was beginning to throb behind the older Asgardian's left eye. Pressing his fingers to his forehead, Thor replied, "I know not what can be done with him, if anything. I don't even know if his words to me before have any bearing on his treachery, or if he seeks to play with my mind. I simply do not know. If _Mother_ can get nothing from him…" Thor shrugged almost helplessly. "I don't know."

Balder nodded, rubbing his chin. His glacier-blue eyes darkened with worry. "Well, I know one thing—do _not_ let Tyr near him again, or there may be bloodshed."

Thor arched an eyebrow. "He's in prison. And Tyr is not so foolish as to let Loki goad him into breaking into his cell in order to—"

"Loki is not the one goading Tyr," Balder interrupted. Thor's brow furrowed. "Tyr is attempting to get information from our brother by taunting him into a fit of temper. He will catch Loki drawing…whatever it is he is constantly drawing, and demand to know what it is. He will deliberately provoke him, yet Loki has yet to respond overtly. I sense trouble brewing if Tyr is allowed to continue his jibes."

"Have you spoken to Father about this?"

The younger prince nodded. "You know how he is. He does not wish to hear anything about Loki. His guilt, you know…and his disappointment. For now, I think Father will let Mother deal with the problem of our wayward brother. And you know Tyr never listens to Mother."

The sigh that came from Thor then seemed to hold all the weight he felt down to his very bones. Things had been so simple that long ago day when Odin had been ready to hand the throne of Asgard to his eldest son—the son who, Thor could admit now, hadn't been ready for kingship then. When had the world become so tangled? Was it merely Loki's discovery of his true parentage? Or was it more?

Perhaps today would be the day his brother gave him some answers. Trying to hold onto that slim, flickering hope, Thor rose to his feet, bade his youngest brother goodbye, and went to visit Loki.

.

Loki was drawing again. Thor had made sure to keep as silent as possible when drawing night his brother's cell this time, and Loki was distracted enough by his task that he didn't seem to notice Thor's stealthy approach through the shadows of the corridor. The prince took a moment to observe Loki from the safety of those shadows.

Every move his brother made was fraught with an electric, frenetic energy. His emerald eyes burned as they darted over the paper. His face was nearly bloodless, and a bright crimson drop stood out against Loki's mouth again. The hand holding the charcoal sketching stick practically flew across the page as if on demonic wings. Loki's breath came in half-choked little gasps.

Suddenly, as before, he stopped. He stared at the drawing as if searching for something, some miniscule detail on which hung the very fate of the cosmos. Wrinkles formed between his thin, dark brows as they knitted together. The pale lips moved soundlessly. It took Thor a long moment to realize his brother was mouthing the word "no" over and over again; that and another word he couldn't quite make out from the shape of Loki's mouth.

A look of helpless confusion flitted across his brother's wan face, followed swiftly by anger edged with what might have been despair. Loki dropped his face into the cup of one hand. He crushed the charcoal stick in his other; it broke in half with a muffled _snap_. The pieces clattered to the table top and rolled slowly over the smooth surface before slipping off and falling to the floor. Loki's empty fingers convulsed into a fist so tight his hand visibly shook. He pressed it hard against the table until Thor heard the wood creak.

At last Loki lifted his head to stare once more with broken eyes at the drawing. "Memory fades so swiftly," Loki breathed. "Why can I not remember something so simple? Something so vital? Surtur's blade… _why_ can I not _remember?"_

He clamped his lips together. Squeezed his eyes shut. His face contorted as if in pain. With a muffled, wordless cry he snatched up the picture and crumpled it into a ball. He surged to his feet—unsteadily, Thor noticed. Stalking to the sullen fire, Loki made as if to cast the drawing into the flames…but then he hesitated. With trembling fingers he unfolded the crumpled drawing; gazed down at it with a blank face, though his eyes were alive, alight with something like desperation.

Loki took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, with a shudder. He shook his head. "No," Loki said softly. "No. It isn't right. It will not…serve." With those opaque words, the other prince balled the paper up again, but he moved as if it were the hardest thing he had ever done. And instead of hurling the paper into the flames, he held out his hand, palm up, and let the drawing slip from his grasp to land in the fire.

While the paper crackled and burned, Loki leaned his forearm against the fireplace mantel. Swallowed audibly. Then he leaned his forehead against his arm. His shoulders slumped. He raised a fist and thumped it once against the marble mantel.

Thor could bear it no longer. As before, the prince stepped into the light. "Loki."

His brother didn't turn around, which Thor had half-expected, half-dreaded. He hadn't expected Loki to mutter, "Why have you come back here, Thor? What do you want of me?"

"Are you…all right?" He couldn't forget the haunted—and haunting—look on his little brother's face.

But to his incredulous irritation, Loki turned to him with that smirk twisting his features. He laughed openly at Thor. "Am I all right? Brother, I'm in prison. I mean no offense, of course, but that's a stupid question."

Fury washed through the prince. "Forgive my foolishness. Of course civilities are wasted on common criminals."

That smirk carved deeper across Loki's face. The once-anguished eyes twinkled with mocking amusement. Had Thor only imagined the sorrow in Loki's face before he'd burned the drawing? Surely not…but there was no trace of any deep emotion in the other prince now as he chuckled and replied, "Your wit hasn't improved while I've been imprisoned, Brother. Is that why you've come today? To attempt to sharpen that rapier wit?"

In that moment Thor came to a decision. He'd avoided confronting Loki flat out about the drawings themselves, instead asking about the things he'd said the last time they'd spoken. He hadn't wished to see that look of vicious pain on his little brother's face again. But he would not stand here and be mocked for his trouble, either. If Loki wished to contest with him, Thor would strike at his heart.

"Were you not satisfied with this latest drawing, little brother?" Thor asked casually, striding toward the ensorcelled glass that separated him from his foster brother. "Did it not please you?"

The effect on Loki was immediate: what little color that had come back into his face while verbally sparring with Thor drained away, his eyes snapped wide, tension gripped his entire body, and his lips parted slightly as if he'd been stunned. Then he seemed to recover himself. Pressing his lips together, he glared at Thor. His gaze was like a jade knife.

"That is none of your concern."

"Oh?" Thor shrugged. "It was a simple question, Loki." When his little brother said nothing, Thor narrowed his eyes. "I'll get answers out of you eventually, little brother. You cannot put me off forever."

Loki scoffed. "Oh, can't I? Don't you have better things to do? Primping in front of the mirror for your little mortal, for example? I hear the Bifröst will be fully repaired in but a year's time. Surely you want to look your best for her. Perhaps you should go and polish those feathers you call a helmet."

"Leave Jane out of this," Thor snapped. "You berate me for involving others in a conflict between us, then attempt to use her against me—"

"Hypocrite," Loki snarled softly. "So you're allowed to attempt to use my weaknesses against me, eh, Brother? But when I hit back with the same tactic, you cry foul?"

Through gritted teeth, the golden-haired prince said, "There is a vast difference between asking you a difficult question and threatening the woman I love. You will not harm Jane, Loki. So much as attempt it, and brother or no, I _will_ kill you. Do you understand?"

Eyes like sunlight through green glass flickered. "A difference? No, there really isn't. Not in the end," Loki murmured, and once again Thor had the impression of trying to catch something precious but elusive in his grasp. Then his brother shook off whatever melancholy had softened his demeanor and smirked at Thor. "Besides, I never threatened her. I once said that I _might_ pay her a visit, but that was merely to goad you into doing what I wanted. Even you should have been able to see that, despite your thick skull. And I wasn't threatening her just now, either. Merely proving a point. I can put you off for eternity if need be. You may as well give up whatever futile quest you've come here on and leave me in relative peace."

"It was a simple question, Loki. Were you displeased with the drawing? Forgetting a detail, perhaps?" As Thor spoke, Loki's lips pressed tighter and tighter together. The cocky smirk had vanished like a ghost. "Something you can't remember interfering?"

Voice hoarse and strained, the pseudo-Asgardian hissed, "You were _listening_. Spying on me!"

Thor's shrug was completely unapologetic. "My only recourse," he said, "when you refuse to tell me what I wish to know."

Loki's face went blank. In a carefully neutral tone, the disguised Frost Giant said, "Very well. I was not satisfied with the drawing. It is difficult to draw something so detailed from memory. Mistakes are often made. Satisfied?" The last word was spat as if it were poison.

"What were you drawing?"

Loki's expression hardened. "Getting a bit greedy, aren't we?" Thor merely shrugged…and waited. He kept his eyes trained on Loki as his brother glared at him with that same icy hatred Thor had seen before, the loathing that frosted Thor's blood and squeezed his heart like King Laufey's own bitter-cold fist. Finally Loki said, "There is nothing in all the Nine Realms that you could offer that would compel me to tell you."

After a carefully measured pause, Thor asked, "What about your freedom?"

His brother laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. Only bitterness like wormwood. "My freedom is not in your power to give. Nor," he added sharply, "is it within the purview of the All-Father. Not my true freedom. No one can give me that." His voice dropped low, almost musing. "The fetters that bind me are stronger than any that Odin could devise."

"Why do you always throw your drawings into the fire?" Thor asked. He wanted to demand Loki explain himself, explain his words of fetters and guilt and innocent blood. Explain why nothing was worth his giving Thor the information he wanted. Instead he focused on the subject that seemed to draw Loki out of himself the most. "Why not keep them? Surely you do not despise your failures so much that they must be destroyed. I remember your skill with pencil and brush from when we were young. Even with small mistakes, the work would be well-done."

A sneer twisted Loki's face. "Because I know you want to see them, so I make sure you cannot. I delight in vexing you, Brother."

Thor scoffed. "You're acting like a child."

"Do _not_ speak to _me_ of children!" Loki roared suddenly. The fury blazing like viridian fire in his brother's gaze, the hatred searing in his voice, nearly made Thor step back. Taking a shaking step toward Thor, Loki shouted, "How _dare_ you? _How dare you?_ "

"If you don't want me to call you a child," his older brother replied scathingly, using acid to mask his sudden unease, "don't act like one." Why, Thor wondered, had the juvenile insult enraged Loki so much? Here was another of those mercurial shifts in temper Loki had begun to display. What about the comment had enraged him this time? Was it simply that he was so proud, looked down on his elder foster brother so much, that he took grave insult if Thor said anything negative about him? It made no sense…

And Loki didn't reply to Thor's latest retort, either; only spun on his heel in a whirl of loose black material to glare at the fire as it slowly began to die. Silence stretched taut and heavy between the brothers. Finally Thor sighed. "Brother…I do not wish to fight with you. Why must you make this a battle?"

It took a few moments for Loki to respond. When he did, Thor was surprised by his words. "Do you know what it is to fight every moment of every day of your life? To see battles looming when others tell you there's nothing there, that you are merely imagining things? And then you have to fight them, knowing that nothing you do will ever end that conflict?" Loki shook his head, never taking his eyes from the flames. "When you live on a battlefield, you do not willingly remove even a single piece of your armor."

Thor took another step toward the enchanted glass barrier. He could feel the magic of it as soft prickles along his skin that made the golden hairs on his arms stand up, as a dull ache in his teeth. Ignoring it, he took yet another step. He took a breath.

"I have never harmed you, Loki, save in these recent battles. Why do you think I seek to hurt you?"

"You've already dealt the fatal blow, Thor. Ever since you defeated me back on Midgard, I have been bleeding to death from it. I suppose it's too much trouble to mourn my death a second time," Loki added bitterly. "You've already held my funeral once. Why waste time with a second? What do you think Odin and Frigga will do when I die of this wound, hmmm? Throw my corpse to the pigs?"

Bile rose in Thor's throat; he swallowed it back. In a carefully neutral voice, he said, "If you died, Brother, our mother and father would surely mourn, as they did before. Mother was inconsolable after you fell from the Bifröst. She wept for days. And if you were wounded, the healers would tend you faithfully…if you allowed it."

Loki's laugh was almost poisonous as it rattled in his chest. "Tend me? This is not a wound that can be tended, Brother. You have carved out my heart the way the deaths on my conscience have carved into my bones. As a heartless monster I now stand before the crown prince of Asgard, vainly trying to remember what it was to possess a heart capable of breaking. You have killed me as surely as I killed Laufey. Yet I forgive you for _that_."

Noting his younger brother's emphasis, Thor asked, "If you forgive any injury I've done you, then what is it you despise me for, Loki? Whatever wrong I have done you, I am sorry. But it was not wrong of me to stop you from conquering Midgard."

"Well, whatever helps you sleep at night, _Brother_ ," Loki snarled. "Are you blind? You come here and ask your questions, and in the same breath deny the answers. Why should I tell you anything? It will not cleanse your conscience, or mine."

"You cannot blame me for the deaths of the Midgardians who were killed in the invasion," Thor snapped, losing patience. "Nor can you blame me for the guilt you supposedly feel over their blood."

His brother turned to sneer over his shoulder. "Right on the first point, but not the second. I don't blame you for their deaths…but _you_ are the reason their deaths were in vain. If you and your pathetic band of 'heroes' hadn't attempted to thwart me—"

"You blame me because the invasion failed?" Thor demanded, incredulously.

"Yes."

"And because it failed, those who died, died in vain?"

"Yes," Loki hissed.

"And your guilt stems from that and that alone?" Thor asked. When Loki hesitated, Thor's heart gave an odd lurch in his chest. A knot of confusion, anger, and concern twisted sharply in the pit of his belly. Thor shook his head in bewilderment. "Loki…what is it, exactly, that you condemn me for?"

Jade fire smoldered in his brother's eyes. " _Their_ deaths."

Thor remembered that Loki always chose his words with care, even when in a fury. _Their_ deaths. He had already said he didn't blame Thor for the deaths of the Midgardians, just the futility of them. So…"Who, Loki?" Thor asked softly. "Whose deaths?"

As if emerging from a dream, Loki blinked. Shook his head. "No. No, you'll not pull that confession from my lips. You don't deserve to hear their names."

Stunned, Thor gazed at his brother with wide eyes. Didn't deserve…? Someone Loki actually _cared_ for? For a moment, Thor wondered if Loki meant a woman. But no, he'd said _their_ names. But then, who could he mean? Thor shook his head. "How can I answer your accusation if you do not tell me their names?"

"Their names would mean nothing to you. Do not seek to try and refute my claim, Thor, for I know well where the blame for their deaths lies. Yes, with me, and I will carry that guilt for the rest of eternity, even unto death. It lies with that monster, Thanos, and his lieutenant. But most of all, it lies with _you_ , Thor Odinson, and damn your soul to the bowels of Nifelheim!" Ashen, eyes glistening like wet blue-green jewels with what might have been the gloss of savagely enraged tears, Loki cried, "If not for you, they would yet be alive! _Damn you!_ "

Then it seemed as if all the life drained from Loki's body. He fell to his knees on the floor, then sank down until only the wall kept him upright. He dropped his head against the cool stone. Closed his eyes. His breath came in great, heaving, shuddering gasps. His fingers knotted into fists so tight the knuckles burned white against the flesh. Thor watched Loki unclench his hands finger by finger; he ran his hands over his face and sighed.

At last Loki merely sat there, his hands clasped atop his head, elbows bracketing his face, eyes tightly closed. He did not move an inch. Did not make a sound. He only sat like that, and Thor could almost see the walls of ice that had so recently come down building up around him again.

Moved by instinct, Thor said softly, "Loki…I don't understand. Please, explain it to me."

Loki simply sighed. "Why should I bother? You won't listen."

"I will."

"You won't believe."

"I…" Thor hesitated, then pressed on. "I will try." When his brother said nothing, Thor added, "Loki, we used to trust each other. We used to protect each other. When did that change? It has not changed for me. You're my brother."

A small laugh. "I'm adopted, in case you've forgotten."

Thor scowled. "Do I look as if I give a damn?" To his surprise, Loki chuckled. "Loki, if I have earned my brother's enmity, I deserve to at least to know why. Tell me!"

Loki sighed again, then opened his eyes, which seemed oddly discolored by the light; almost blue. Dropping his arms to rest on his updrawn knees, he stared at the floor. His brow furrowed in thought. Was he considering Thor's offer? The Asgardian prince didn't wish to get his hopes up…but then Loki looked up at him. It felt as if someone had jabbed a needle of ice straight into Thor's heart. Slowly, Loki nodded.

"Yes…I suppose you deserve at least that. But it's late, Brother. So I will give you one reason, and you may come to collect the rest on the morrow." Loki closed his eyes again. "I suppose the guards have told you that I do not simply draw, but that I also write?"

Nonplussed by the abrupt change in topic, Thor nodded. "They did."

"Did they tell you _what_ I was writing?"

"They claimed not to know."

A ghost of a smile curled Loki's mouth. "I would imagine so. I'm careful enough. But I shall tell you, since you wish to know what sins have condemned you. I write letters, Thor. Letters to the dead. And I burn them because I was told once that if one wished to send a message to someone who has passed, the best way is to burn it, and the wind in the chimney will take the pieces up into the heavens." Loki's voice was soft, musing, with a weight of sadness that seemed to drag at his brother like iron shackles. "I know not whether it actually works. I can only pray so."

Thor swallowed, afraid of breaking the spell that seemed to have fallen over his little brother, but at last he spoke softly. "I think, if the Creator is merciful, such tactics work well enough. But what has that to do with me?"

"Do you know who I'm writing to?"

"The dead," Thor replied, frowning. "You've said that."

Loki shook his head slowly. "Such a thick skull. It's a wonder you've lived this long. Which dead, Thor? All the dead? A handful? One in particular?" The other prince could only shake his head helplessly. A faint crease formed between Loki's brows. "I write to the ones whose deaths I lay at your feet. They are the ones I draw. But I said I would give you but one reason today, and so I shall. I will give you a name. And you can think on that name, turn it over in your mind, feel it settle around your heart as the guilt seeps into your soul."

There was a long silence. Thor could count his heartbeats, loud as war-drums in his ears. He watched as Loki's forehead wrinkled as if with some great strain. His eyes, closed and relaxed until now, squeezed tight. His fists were so tight, Thor's hands ached in sympathy. There would be bloody crescents in his little brother's palms later.

Finally Loki opened his eyes. To Thor's utter shock, his eyes were damp with tears. A single teardrop spilled from the corner of Loki's eye and roll down his pale cheek to drip off the end of his chin. He seemed paler than ever. Pale as death. His voice, husky with emotion, trembled.

"Her name was Thea. Now leave me in peace."

_TBC_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…what do you guys think? How am I doing so far? I know it's not conventional to introduce a major influence at the end of the second chapter/installment (unless it's a villain) but like I said, I'm doing things a little different from the norm, so…yeah. Anywho, what do you guys think so far? Reviews are love, yes? And of course if you notice any typos, any plot issues, anything you don't like, blah-blah, let me know. Love you all!


	3. All Is Illusion and Vain Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor spies on Loki working a strange spell in the confines of his prison...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, emotional abuse, emotional neglect, depression, PTSD, torture, and blood.
> 
> So here we are with the next chapter! Who's excited? Anyone besides me? And Sweetnsour333, where you goed? I haven't heard from you in ages! Where you goed? *ahem* Anyways, so some excitement in this chapter! We finally get to learn one of Loki's secrets. Yesssss, precioussss…we does, precioussss…
> 
> Oh, sorry, too much Hobbit exposure. Ahem. Where was I? Oh, yes, the soundtrack for this chapter.
> 
> Soundtrack:For the first scene, I listened to "Girl in the Garden" by SJ Tucker (it's beautiful, look it up on Youtube), "Gone" from Snow White & the Huntsman, "My Love" by Sia from Twilight, "Gelfling Song" from The Dark Crystal, and "Stand in the Rain" by Superchic(k).
> 
> For the much longer second scene, I listened to (in this order): "First Snow" from The Fountain, "Bourne Vivaldi" by The Piano Guys, "Moonlight" by the Piano Guys, "Taikatalvi (Instrumental)" by Nightwish, "Knowing You by Heart" from The Little Princess and "Bella's Lullaby" from Twilight (specifically when Loki interacts with the illusion), "Journey to Fenland" from Snow White & the Huntsman, "Song of the Caged Bird" by Lindsey Stirling, and "Love Theme" from The Dark Crystal.

"Thea?" Frigga murmured. The queen of Asgard moved to the window of her private receiving room, brushing a tendril of hair back from her face. Her son saw that her hand trembled just a little. Thor watched as his mother pressed her fingertips to the smooth pane of window-glass, pressed until her fingertips turned white at the edges. "Thea," she said again, as if testing or tasting the name. "Thea."

Sunlight drifted through the glass, casting rainbow sparkles upon the smooth marble floor and across the silken folds of his mother's pearl-gray dress. Her hair, piled artfully atop her head, caught the amber light of morning. It burnished the bronze strands, bringing out glints of copper fire. Thor stood near the chair his mother had offered him—the chair he'd been too restless to take when he'd first arrived—and watched Frigga stroke the glass. Worry for Loki was in every line of her body, in the brittle set of her shoulders, even the angle of her head as she studied Asgard through the window. They all worried for Loki; until the day he and Thor had battled atop the Bifröst, there hadn't been even the slightest inkling that there was anything wrong with him.

"Who do you think she is?" Frigga asked softly, pulling Thor's thoughts back to the meeting at hand. "This Thea he spoke of? A woman? Could he…" She trailed off, then seemed to steel herself to continue. "Could he have fallen in love with one of the Chitauri's agents, do you suppose?"

Thor's massive shoulders rose and fell in a helpless shrug. "I don't know. I…I'm not sure. He spoke of  _they_. Not a single person. And he…he spoke to me of children."

Frigga's head whipped around, her honey-gold eyes wide. "Children?"

The prince sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "He provoked me, and I told him he was acting like a child. Suddenly he…he changed again. He  _was_  being his typical condescending self. He sneered at me, so I struck back with an insult to show him how petty I thought he was acting. It enraged him. I have never seen him so furious. He raged at me not to speak to him of children. I didn't understand…I  _still_  don't understand what made him so angry."

"Perhaps this…Thea…was his child?"

Thor's eyes widened and an odd feeling churned in his belly. Loki…with a child? The thought was so alien, so bizarre, Thor could scarcely fathom it. His brother couldn't have a child. Loki as a father?

But then, if not so, why had his little brother become so infuriated at the petty insult? Had Thea been Loki's daughter? Or if not that, then a child he'd inexplicably grown fond of, who'd been killed during the Chitauri invasion? No, because how was  _that_  Thor's fault?

Unless in Loki's insane guilt, he had to place blame on his foster brother because he could not shoulder it alone…

"I simply don't know, Mother," Thor murmured, heaving a sigh. "I do not know what Loki is thinking, or even if he speaks the truth. I came only to give you a report of what occurred last night. I know you worry for him."

"I worry for all of you," Frigga replied in a strained voice, turning back to the window. "Tyr was so angry at being passed over for the kingship, but…but he simply wasn't ready. Would  _never_  be ready. Víðarr feels Loki's betrayal so keenly; he looked up to him. I do not know if they will ever be able to mend the breach. Balder and Hermod are both torn by what your brother has done, and you…we've asked so much of you, Thor—"

The brash, boyish smile Thor gifted her with seemed to ease some of Frigga's strain. She smiled at her second-eldest. Thor went to her and took her hands. "You needn't worry, Mother. I will handle Loki."

"Don't let Tyr provoke him," Frigga added. "I do not know what cruel game he plays with your brother, but Tyr's harsh words will help nothing."

Thor nodded. "Don't worry. I will speak to Tyr."

.

As before, when Thor went to the dungeons to speak to his brother the next day, he approached with silence and the utmost caution. He'd never been as good at skulking and sneaking as Loki and Balder, but these days it seemed that if he took enough care, and Loki was distracted, his brother wouldn't notice Thor's presence until the older prince had had a chance to observe his strange behavior for a time. He was counting on that; after everything Loki had said the night before, Thor wanted a chance both to think and to observe his foster brother.

The clank of iron-shod boots on the marble floor arrested him. Frowning, Thor paused. The air suddenly seemed to hang thick in the torch-lit corridor. A sliver of apprehension whispered down the Æsir's spine as a guard hurried down the hall, eyes wide beneath the visor of his golden helm. Thor took three quick strides forward and grasped the guard by the shoulders, halting him.

"What is it?"

"Prince Loki, Your Highness," the guard gasped. "He is trying to perform  _seiðr_  to break the bonds of his prison."

Something sharp and hot sliced through Thor like a blade. Loki was trying to escape? Now? Because he knew Thor was coming, and didn't wish to answer anymore of his questions? Or because of something else? Thor shoved past the guard, ordering, "Fetch my father."

Without waiting for the guard to acquiesce, he took off running. The blood pumped hot through his veins as he laid one hand on the hilt of his sword. His other hand flexed at his side, his fingers twitching with the desire to wrap tightly around Mjölnir. His hammer would come if he needed it, but for now, he would rely on his blade. Loki hadn't broken out  _yet_ —the backlash of power from the shattering prison-spells keeping him bound would've been felt throughout Asgard. There was still time to stop him.

With that thought, Thor lowered his head and put on a burst of speed that rocketed him down the corridor and around the corner, where he slid to a halt just before he would've come into Loki's line of sight.

But Thor could see Loki as plain as day.

His brother sat against the plain white wall of his prison, shoulders hunched, knees drawn up to his chest. One hand curled into a white-knuckled fist, pressed against Loki's mouth hard enough that Thor was surprised his brother had cut his lips on his own teeth. The other hand stretched out toward empty air, palm-up, trembling as if it held up a great weight. Loki's dark sleeves were rolled up to mid-forearm. Blue veins and chords of muscle strained against the pale flesh, and sweat streamed down the white brow, plastering strands of ebony hair to temples, cheeks, and neck.

Loki's breath came in harsh, ragged gasps. His chest rose and fell sharply with each breath. An intense, almost mad fire blazed in the absinthe green of his gaze; that gaze focused on a spot somewhere in front of him, never blinking, distant with concentration. Thor could tell Loki hadn't closed his eyes, even for a second, in some time—moisture gathered and seeped from the corners of Loki's eyes.

The second hand flexed open, shot out to join the other. Long, slender fingers stiffened; both hands shook with Herculean effort. Dark brows knotted in fierce concentration and the green eyes narrowed to mere slits. Pale, thin lips peeled back to reveal Loki had gritted his teeth, almost as if he were in pain. His breath whistled between his clenched teeth as he struggled against the bonds of his prison. The  _seiðr_  that the All-Father had placed around the prison and laced throughout the room vibrated and hummed as Loki fought to bring his spell to fruition. The ensorcelled glass shield rattled in its casement with the force of the magic battering at it.

No. No, Loki couldn't escape. Not again. As vividly as a nightmare that would always haunt him, Thor remembered the day Loki had stepped out of the containment unit on the SHIELD Helicarrier, that smug grin on his face. As if everything were going according to plan. Thor recalled vividly how he'd run to tackle his brother, to shove him back into the cell, only to pass through the illusion of him like lunging through a sheet of icy water. He remembered the hiss of the prison door closing him in, his little brother's mocking query,  _Are you ever_  not  _going to fall for that?_

All too well could Thor remember Coulson preventing Loki from dropping the Asgardian from the Helicarrier to what should have been certain death…only to see his little brother murder the Midgardian who'd inexplicably become his friend with a thrust of the bladed spear through Coulson's back. Loki had murdered him…stabbed him in the back…like a coward…

Thor drew his sword, the  _uru_  metal whispering against the leather sheath like a softly spoken promise of vengeance. His heart hammered in his chest, threatening to bruise his ribs. He took a step forward, rage and grief warring for pride of place in his chest. The leather-wrapped hilt of the sword was a heavy weight in his palm. He would do whatever it took to prevent Loki's escape. He would…he would shatter Loki's concentration…and if that didn't work, then…then he would…what would he do?

Another step dragged him closer to his brother.

Something shimmered in the air about two feet in front of Loki's nose. Shadows twisted and writhed in the air, coiling around each other, morphing like clay to take a vaguely human shape. Loki bit his lip until it bled. A thin trickle of blood leaked from his left nostril. The crimson droplets stood out as stark as rubies in the sun against the wan face and dark clothes. Wrinkles snarled across Loki's forehead and between his eyebrows as he leaned forward, hunger written plainly across his features.

The twining shadows smoothed out, the vague shape sculpting into more definable lines. Thor froze perhaps ten paces away from the cell. Thor didn't know as much about  _seiðr_  as Loki—very few did, at least in Asgard—but he knew a little. Enough, in fact, to know that what Loki was doing would  _never_  get him out of his cell. It would never help him escape.

It was an illusion spell. Not the kind of illusions Loki normally used to deceive his enemies; something less malignant, less vicious. This illusion couldn't even make tactile contact. Though it could  _be_  touched, it couldn't touch anyone itself, couldn't affect the world around it. That was a subtle difference taught to every Asgardian warrior, because this type of illusion could be damaged, but could do no damage in its turn. If Loki had been forming an illusion of himself, perhaps it would have made sense, but this wasn't an image of the pseudo-Asgardian at all, nor could it be mistaken for such.

Thor lowered his sword as the shadows and smoke solidified into the image of a young child. He couldn't see the child's face, as she faced away from Thor and toward Loki; he saw only the back of her head and body. She might have been perhaps five or six years old, judging by her size. Slender, small, with thick, lustrous black curls falling to the middle of her back, she stood in typical Asgardian dress—a simple linen shift the color of fresh cream beneath a green velvet kirtle embroidered with gold runes. A deeply emerald ribbon tied back those curly black tresses, giving Thor just a glimpse of pale, round cheek, delicate ear, slender throat. Her small hands hung at her sides; in one she clutched a stuffed black bear with green eyes.

Was this Thea? She couldn't have been Loki's child. She was too old. Loki hadn't been in the habit of fathering bastards, and even had he been, Odin's edict regarding illegitimate issue was well-known—the by-blows (and their mothers) were to be brought to the palace, given work there, and taken care of as befitted the children, legitimate or not, of the royal family. Loki couldn't have had a child—not one he knew of, at any rate—before falling from the Bifröst three years ago, unless it were a Frost Giant babe…but the little creature Loki had rendered via illusion was no Frost Giant. So who was this girl?

Loki drew a shuddering breath. His eyes roved over the illusion of the child with insatiable hunger as he reached out with one shaking hand. Trembling fingertips halted a hand's span from the small cheek. Loki's fingers knotted into a fist and his breath escaped in what might have been a sob. Then, moving as if he might shatter, he caressed the child's cheek with his knuckles. Carefully slid his fingers into the black curls and ran his fingers through them; his eyes tracked the movement of his hand before returning to the girl's face, which Thor still couldn't see.

"I'm sorry," Loki whispered. Thor jolted; it seemed his entire body had gone numb, then been struck by lightning. The rage and fear of Loki's escape dwindled to nothing, replaced by confusion and uncertainty. Loki's mouth quivered as he breathed, "Oh, little one…I'm  _so_ sorry. Forgive me. I swore to protect you…swore I would always…but I failed you. I'm so sorry."

Then Loki did the unthinkable—he shifted, rising to his knees, and embraced the child, pressing his face against her shoulder. A fine tremor went through the long, lean frame. Loki crushed strands of the little girl's black hair in his fists even as the illusion began to fade. Thor watched—chest tight and throat raw from swallowing back salt and sorrow at his younger brother's grief—as the girl's image vanished, leaving Loki holding naught but empty air. The rattle and hum of  _seiðr_  pressing against  _seiðr_  slowly faded.

Slowly, as if afraid of bleeding to death, Loki drew his hands to his chest and bowed his head. His shoulders shook once, twice. Then he went still. He knelt there for a moment, simply breathing. Then he surged to his feet and strode to the fireplace to gaze down at the flames. Thor saw then that an entire stack of drawings were burning to black char and ash amidst the coals. Was that what had brought on this sudden need to conjure the illusion?

Loki passed a hand over his face, and when it dropped back to his side, there was no sign of the anguish that had so recently pained the prince. The pale countenance was a blank mask, empty of everything. Then Loki's lip curled, his mouth twisting into that familiar and irritating smirk that made Thor's fist ache to knock it askew. He straightened his shoulders. Rolled his neck until a small  _pop_  released some tension. Then he sighed and shook his head, before chuckling to himself.

"Thor is a fool," Loki whispered, still sneering. "But then, so are they all."

The words were a slap that struck aside everything Thor had felt in the last few moments upon seeing the illusion of the child. Left behind was only simmering anger.

"Fool, am I?" Thor demanded. His voice emerged harsh and strained, but the fresh anger in it came through well enough. Loki tensed, but didn't whip around to face his brother. Instead he pivoted slowly until he could look Thor in the eye. The elder prince snapped, "And why am I a fool?"

Loki chuckled dryly. "Well, there you stand. Surely the guards rushed off to tell you I was attempting to escape, yet you come running with your sword drawn in an effort to stop me…again. Even though every time you've attempted it, you've failed. Is that not foolish? Or perhaps mad," he added with a bright smile that made Thor's teeth clench. "Is not the definition of madness, 'doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result every time?'"

"Our father is coming to see you," Thor said coldly, ignoring his brother's taunt. "You will offer the proper respect—"

"I believe we've already established that he's  _your_  father."

"So you decry us all because he didn't tell you that you were a foundling? Truly?" Thor sheathed his sword. "Don't tell me that everything you've done, every treachery committed, is because Father kept that truth from you?"

His brother shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. "Believe what you will. You always have. Which is why, I imagine, you told the guard to bring the All-Father, in case I managed to get past you once I'd broken my bonds." When Thor said nothing, Loki scoffed. "So predictable."

"I remember what happened the last time you escaped your prison," Thor muttered. "You killed a man I was proud to call my friend and ally."

Loki arched a brow. "Oh? Did I?"

Thor lunged for the enchanted glass separating him from his brother. Thumping his fist against it, ignoring the prickling of the magic bound within the glass, the Asgardian growled like an enraged lion, "Don't you  _dare_  mock me! He was my  _friend_ , Loki, and you murdered him in cold blood."

Another disdainful scoff. "He had a gun aimed at me. What did you expect me to do, Brother—let him blast me into a million pieces? I know you were sorely disappointed when I managed to survive his attempt, but surely you've more sense than  _that_."

"Disapp—" Thor choked on the word. He stared at his brother with incredulous eyes. "Is that what you think? That I wanted you dead? Bor's ghost, Loki, why would you ever think that?"

"Because I remember you dropping me off the end of the Bifröst into the blackness of an abyss without a thought,  _Brother!_ "

He'd said that before, Thor recalled, when they'd argued in the forested hills around Stuttgart.  _We grew up together, played together. We fought together. Don't you remember?_  And Loki had said something like,  _I remember you dropping me into an abyss._  Thor hadn't known what to make of that at the time; still didn't. But there had been other things that needed to be said, and so he'd let it go. Yet surely Loki didn't think that Thor had let him fall on purpose? Loki had  _let go_  of the haft of Gungnir. Didn't he remember?

"You let go," Thor murmured. And even now, that memory sent a shaft of ice through his heart. "I begged you not to. I  _begged_  you, Loki, and yet you…you let go."

Loki blinked, brow furrowing as if in confusion. He shook his head slowly. "No. No, you dropped me—"

"I didn't," Thor insisted. "I would never. You're my brother. I  _mourned_  you, Loki. I thought you were dead. When I found out you were alive, I was overjoyed. How could you ever think otherwise?"

"Oh, yes, you seemed quite glad to see me when you dragged me off that Midgardian aircraft by the scruff of my neck like an errant child and then hurled me into a mountainside when we made it back to the ground. I could see your joy as plain as a campfire in the dark, Brother."

"You'd murdered innocent people. The Midgardian authorities had you in custody for crimes you'd committed against them. Did you expect me to be happy about that?"

A flash of snow-white teeth in a smile that was more of a sneer. "Happy? Perhaps not. I suppose it isn't your fault you've become so soft. I can understand, even sympathize. No, I didn't expect you to be happy. But I didn't  _murder_  anyone. The Midgardians who died were unfortunate casualties—"

"Unfortunate casualties?" A rich, deep voice asked from behind Thor. Immediately Thor saw Loki's features close off, his eyes go blank and cold as frosted emeralds. His lips thinned into a severe line. The elder prince hadn't realized how much his younger brother had opened up to him until he shut down in the presence of the All-Father who'd raised them both. Odin continued, "Is that what you call those innocents, Loki?"

Loki's lips twisted into an expression Thor couldn't quite name. "Do you think me a liar, All-Father? Do you doubt my sincerity?"

Odin's single blue burned as it rested on his adopted son. "Do I?"

Loki gave a short, sharp laugh that seemed to Thor as if it should've left either his brother or Odin bleeding. He replied, "Ah, but I'm never sincere, am I, Thor? You've said so yourself. But then," he focused on Odin, and the blankness left his gaze, to be replaced by something icy and razor sharp, "neither are you."

Odin didn't speak for several long moments. Thor studied his father, dressed in somber black with his hair tied back in a queue to keep it out of his face; his father had been sparring in the salle, no doubt. Thor wondered if the king of Asgard saw as much—despite Loki's mask of boredom—as Thor did himself. Finally, the white-haired Asgardian asked, "You attempted to thwart the containment spells on your prison; why? What did you hope to accomplish? Surely you knew you couldn't break them and escape, so why waste so much effort?"

Thor opened his mouth to tell his father about the illusion of the little girl, then closed it. Loki didn't know he'd been seen; at least, Thor was fairly certain he didn't know, judging by Loki's reaction the last time he'd accused Thor of spying on him. What sort of damage would it do to whatever progress the golden-haired prince was making with his wayward younger brother if he revealed that secret to their father in front of him? Somehow Thor knew that Loki would never forgive him. And what would Odin do with the information? Had Frigga already told him of the mysterious Thea, whose death Loki blamed on Thor?

"It wasn't a waste," Loki said simply, smirking once more. "Clearly Heimdall isn't keeping as strict a watch as you would like, since  _he cannot_ answer your questions. Then again, he has always been particularly blind to what was right in front of him…as have you, All-Father."

"Loki, that's enough," Thor cautioned sharply. Loki shook his head, but said nothing more. "Father, Loki hasn't escaped, as you can see. He has not the strength to make another attempt in the near future. Let me speak to him alone. Perhaps I can get the answers you seek."

When Loki snorted, Thor shot him a look that clearly said,  _Shut up._

After another interminable silence, Odin nodded. "Very well. Reason with him…if you can." And he turned on his heel and strode off down the corridor, leaving the brothers alone save for the guards. At a nod from Thor, they took themselves off a ways, giving the princes privacy once more.

"I hope you enjoy wasting your breath," Loki said with a smile. He turned to walk to the chair where he normally sat during his and Thor's often one-sided conversations. "Not to mention your time."

"Both are mine to waste," Thor replied, thinking quickly. "Tell me…who was the girl?"

Loki froze, as if his entire body had been encased in a thick sheet of ice. So excruciatingly slowly, he turned to look at Thor. "What girl?"

"The child you conjured," Thor said gently. Bored mask gone, Loki leveled a vicious look at him. "Who was she?"

"That is  _none_  of your concern."

Still keeping his voice gentle, the Asgardian prince asked, "Was that Thea?"

Pale hands slammed down on the table hard enough to make the ink-wells rattle. "Don't say her name!" Loki hissed, hatred seething beneath the words. "How  _dare_  you? You don't deserve to speak her name!"

Time for a single moment of ruthlessness. "Why?" Thor demanded. "Because you and I killed her?"

The effect on Loki was immediate. All the rage and hatred dissipated and he sank into the chair like his legs would no longer support him. His pale face grew haggard. He closed his eyes as if attempting to block out Thor and his incessant questions. A ragged sigh escaped him.

"That child—that was her, wasn't it?" Thor asked. "Who was she?"

But Loki shook his head. Wearily, he said, "That wasn't her. That was…someone else."

"Who?" When Loki didn't speak again, Thor said, "You said you would give me the reasons for my condemnation today, Brother. You would tell me once and for all why you hate me so. Well, here I am. Give me your reasons. Because of a girl whose name you have forbidden to speak, and why else?" Silence stretched between, broken only when Thor implored, "Tell me why, Loki."

The seconds ticked by as Loki sat with his eyes closed, his face unreadable. Thor measured those seconds—those small eternities—with the rapid, uneasy beat of his heart. Finally his brother lifted his head and locked shadowed emerald eyes with his own blue gaze.

"The…the child you saw…" Loki seemed to momentarily struggle for breath. "Her name…was…Sophie."

 _Was_. A hollow pang hit Thor in the chest. The child had been so young…"She is dead, then."

Loki's hand resting atop the table spasmed into a white-knuckled fist. "Yes."

Sophie. A Midgardian name. A Midgardian child? Thor couldn't be sure, but he did know that Loki would never have given a child of his loins a name from Midgard. No Frost Giant would give their child a Midgardian name. Nor, Thor was almost certain, would any Asgardian woman Loki might have bedded do so, either. Loki had always disdained mortals. He would never call a daughter of his after mortal fashion. But then…who was the child?

Sensing an odd brittleness in Loki, Thor's voice was at its gentlest when he asked, "Who was she?"

The green-eyed prince shook his head. "I cannot explain so you would understand…not in the time we have. I know I promised you an explanation, and so you shall have one, but to make all known, I must start at the very beginning—the moment I fell from the Bifröst." He cleared his throat. "It is quite a long tale. Are you certain you wish to hear it?"

Thor nodded. "Tell me. I will hear you out, Brother."

Loki drew yet another ragged breath that seemed to tear through his chest like a knife. He said softly, "You asked me who Thea was. I'll tell you. She was a prisoner of the Chitauri…a prisoner from Midgard."

"One of the prisoners you captured for them?" Thor hazarded.

Yet Loki shook his head. A rueful smile played about his mouth, edged with no little pain. His eyes were tired when they lit on Thor's baffled face, but a flicker of amusement warmed them from glacial emerald to a softer green.

"You still think you know how it all played out. You think you're so wise," Loki whispered, "so clever." He leaned his head back, supporting the weight of it against one fist. His dark hair gleamed in the lamp- and firelight. The lines of pain around his mouth deepened as he closed his eyes again, laughed softly, ruefully. "You think I caught her, like a songbird behind golden bars, and then regretted caging her when my better nature won out? You're such a fool, Brother. My prisoner? No. Thea wasn't  _my_  captive."

Noting his brother's emphasis, Thor asked, "Then…who was she?"

"She was the prisoner in the cell next to mine."

_TBC_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: so? So? So? What do you guys think? Did anyone see that coming? Who do you guys think the kid is? Who thought Thea was the kid until Loki said otherwise? Who thinks Loki is lying? What do you think will happen next? How am I doing with keeping things interesting so far? Reviews are love, so love me. Love me! *crazy eyes* LOVE ME!
> 
> Ahem. I'm calm now. Hugs for everyone, because I love you guys. Toodles!


	4. What Was She to You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of wills continues as Thor tries to glean more information from his brother...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, emotional abuse, emotional neglect, depression, PTSD, torture, and blood.

Thor stared at his younger foster brother, unsure if he'd heard correctly. Loki gazed back at him impassively. Not a flicker betrayed him. But then, his brother had always been a good liar. He'd had centuries upon centuries of practice. After all, hadn't Loki fooled Thor—fooled them  _all_ —for however long he'd been plotting to usurp the crown prince and take the Asgardian throne? Why should Thor be surprised that his little brother could lie convincingly?

But the words the crown prince had spoken only the day before slipped into Thor's mind, taunting him with the echoes of a promise made to the younger foster brother who might just be going mad.

 _Loki, I don't understand. Please, explain it to me_ … _Why should I bother?_  Loki had asked.  _You won't listen…I will_ , Thor had said. He'd promised to listen. And when Loki had predicted,  _You won't believe_ , Thor had promised to try. Perhaps such an oath had been rash, because how could he believe that Loki had gone from the Chitauri's unwilling prisoner to their general and the leader of their invading force? It was preposterous.

"The cell next to yours?" Thor echoed, not even bothering to hide his disbelief. "Did you take it and feign imprisonment in an attempt to woo the girl's confidences? Gain her trust? What did she have that the Chitauri could want so badly?" Was this Thea that Loki spoke of even really dead? Did she even  _exist?_

The green-eyed prince shook his head wearily. For a moment there was something in Loki's face that caught Thor's eye, an almost-feral desperation—there one instant, gone the very next, pulling at the concern always hanging over Thor like a threatening cloudburst. But then, replacing that whisper of bestial  _phobos,_  was Loki's familiar disdain. Rolling his eyes, he sneered, "Of course that was my design. After all, of course the Chitauri would seek to harness the power to destroy entire worlds in an eye-blink, with just the wave of a hand."

Thor's eyes widened. Horror shivered through him. Could his enemies truly possess such power? Midgardians were advancing at a frightening pace. Some of them, like Banner and Steven, possessed powers beyond the norm for their species. Could there be a Midgardian as powerful as Loki claimed? Then if the Chitauri ever returned to Midgard in full force, they could wipe out the mortals in seconds. Blue eyes stared at Loki in dismay as his thin lips curved into a smirk.

"Such power, and all in the hands of a single Midgardian. Truly a powerful weapon. Of course the Chitauri wanted her abilities under their control. Once the girl fell under my power, it was a simple enough matter, wooing her to our side."

Thor stepped back from the ensorcelled glass. The buzz of the  _seiðr_  dissipated as he put distance between himself and the containment spells. Sick disappointment churned in his stomach, mingling with the ever-present simmer of anger. Silence descended, broken only by the snap and crackle of the torches in the corridor. Shadows danced along the walls while coldly enraged blue eyes locked with taunting emerald.

"You almost had me fooled, Brother," Thor muttered, no little bitterness tingeing the words. He'd thought they were making progress. He had truly thought he was getting through to Loki a little. But it had all been a cruel little game to his brother. What was the crown prince supposed to tell Frigga? "I should have known better than to trust anything you said," he added softly. "A soldier for the Chitauri to the end, I suppose? You tricked the girl into using her powers for your twisted master and then killed her yourself, did you? And here you had me feeling sorry for you."

A flash of vicious hatred and something that might have been betrayal in Loki's blue-tinged eyes should've sliced Thor to the bone; he tried to shove the feel down, where he could ignore it. Surging to his feet, Loki stalked forward. The smirk was gone; all traces of amusement had vanished. In a voice smoldering with abyssal fire, Loki snarled, "Sorry for me. You felt  _sorry_  for me. Let me be the first to tell you how very much I appreciate your pathetic and so-sincere sentiment, Brother."

Pale hands slammed against the glass. Under Loki's strength, normal glass would have buckled, cracks spiderwebbing across the smooth panes before shattering under the blow. The enchanted window merely shuddered in its frame. Sparks of blue magic shot across the pane in incandescent waves. Loki pressed his forehead against the sparking, crackling glass, despite the fact that the  _seiðr_  had to be pushing at him, vainly attempting to shove him back with little needle-pricks of pain against his skin.

From between clenched teeth Loki spat, "Are you stupid? Are you blind?" Thor bristled, but before he could snap a reply, Loki jerked his hands back from the glass and brought them crashing forward again. The glass rattled harder under this second blow. The magic in it blazed with cobalt fire that reflected like dancing flames in Loki's eyes. The younger prince added with savage heat, "You sanctimonious  _idiot!_  You really are a fool. Will you believe anything I spoon-feed you? You've not changed at all."

Squaring his shoulders, Thor said coolly, "I'll not be toyed with, Loki."

Loki sneered at him. Thor's fist ached to knock that sneer off his brother's face. His fingers convulsed into a fist so tight his knuckles ached with the strain. Loki's voice dripped contempt when he hissed, "But you make it so disgustingly easy,  _Brother_."

With a roar like an enraged lion, the crown prince took two furious strides forward and brought his fist down on the glass. It shuddered under the impact of his fist. Both princes seemed surprised by this flash of temper from Thor, but Loki's surprise quickly morphed into disdainful amusement. Thor narrowed his eyes as thin, pale lips curled into a cat-like smile. His heart hammered like Mjölnir in his chest as fresh anger flooded his veins like molten iron.

"Norns rot your soul, Loki," Thor thundered. A knife-thin black brow winged upward in mocking inquiry. Every word picked up more volume as Thor bellowed, "For once in your life, abandon your webs of falsehood and  _tell me the truth!_ "

The words echoed in the corridor. Thor's chest heaved as he fought to control his breathing, fought to cool his not-inconsiderable temper, fed by hurt, and bring it to heel. Loki merely regarded him with unfathomable emerald eyes. The contempt and condescension faded from his expression, leaving it blank as a brand new sheet of paper. Something impossible to read glittered in the depths of that jewel-gaze as the two brothers regarded each other. At last Loki's mouth curved into a smile with just a trace of mockery in it—mockery aimed at Loki himself, Thor thought with some surprise, not at the crown prince. Loki nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision.

"The truth?" Loki murmured conversationally. He shook his head as if in disbelief and pulled away from the glass, turning his back on Thor to amble over to the table and chair that he so often occupied during these visits. As if too weary to stand any longer, Loki slumped into the chair and stretched out his long legs. Long fingers trembled as they reached for a single sheet of paper on the table.

From his semi-distant vantage point, Thor could see the cramped, spidery handwriting that filled the entire page. The top-most line was the only part of the thing discernible from that distance. The Asgardian thought he saw a word beginning with  _"A"_ …but couldn't quite make it out. That small detail seemed important, though he couldn't have explained why.

Loki's eyes roved over the paper for a long moment of silence before he dropped it to the table again. Then he lifted his gaze to Thor's. "You want the truth? Truly?"

His anger finally under control once more, Thor nodded. "It is all I have ever wanted from you, Loki." Silently he pleaded with his brother.  _Work with me, Loki_ , he tried to say with his gaze.  _Will you not help me to help yourself, Brother? Tell me the truth._

Loki sighed and leaned back. Propping his elbow the arm of the chair, he brought his hand to his mouth and draped two fingers across his lips as Thor had seen him do when considering a difficult problem. After a time, Loki nodded again and fixed his brother with a look that was almost pitying.

"I shall give you the truth, then, since you want it so much."

He straightened, dropping his arms so they draped across his thighs. He leaned forward, jade eyes piercing, and stared at Thor like a serpent watching a mouse. A strange unease shivered through the Asgardian under the full weight of that gaze.

Loki swallowed audibly and a shudder rippled through his tall, lean frame. "Tell me, Brother…do you have any idea what it is to be locked away in a dank, dark pit for days, weeks,  _months_  on end?" Loki's brow arched upward as Thor's brows furrowed. "Do you know what it's like, Thor, to be trapped in a box so small you can't take three paces, nor even stand without stooping, but are forced to  _crawl like a worm?_ "

Thor opened his mouth to reply…and found he had no words. He couldn't imagine Loki crawling. He couldn't imagine anyone having the audacity to try and make him do so. Even when he'd stood before Odin to receive the judgment of the All-Father for his crimes against both Midgard and Asgard, Loki had stood tall, refusing to kneel before a man he named "a treacherous liar." And Loki hadn't seemed to be crawling under the cruel weight of the Chitauri's torments when he'd murdered Coulson or overseen the attack on the mortal city of Manhattan. When he'd stabbed Thor after the Asgardian had pleaded with him one last time to surrender and come home. What fetters had bound him then?

 _The fetters that bind me are stronger than any that Odin could devise_ …The words echoed in Thor's brain, a whisper of doubt that he ruthlessly shoved away. Let Loki spin his lies like a slender, black spider biding time in the center of his web intent on ensnaring the crown prince as his prey. Let him try to spin his web of falsehoods. Thor would have none of it.

But there was the memory of his anguish when he'd called up the vision of the little girl. Sophie. If the child didn't exist, if she were merely a tool for Loki's latest scheme, then where had he even heard such a name? And what if she did exist? If she and Thea were in fact real…what had wrung such grief from Thor's brother? Why had he needed to swear to protect young Sophie, and from what? And what had caused him to fail?

What was Thor supposed to believe?

He focused once more on Loki as the steady voice suddenly wavered and trailed away. Wrinkles furled between Loki's brows and he bit his lip hard enough that a white spot stood out against the flesh. Loki pressed his palms flat to the table, bowing his head so that strands of inky hair spilled across his face, hiding his features. Breathing ragged with some unknown strain filled the otherwise quiet chamber and the corridor beyond.

Finally Loki rasped, "Have you ever been shut up in pitch blackness for so long that you cannot remember the feel of the wind, the song of the Asgardian Sea roaring over the edge of the abyss, the sight of sunlight or moonlight or even the faint glimmer of the stars? Have you any idea what it's like, to be wrapped in silence so absolute that you only have the sound of your heart roaring in your ears and your own screams to listen to?" Loki's hands knotted into fists so tight they shook. "Do you know what it is to be clawed at so savagely by thirst that you'd drink the blood of the rats scuttling around in your cell in order to quench it, only to choke on the poisonous salt? Have you ever known hunger so savage it tears at your guts like rabid wolves until you think you must eat  _something_ —slop or sawdust or glass,  _anything_ —or you'll go mad with the pain tearing at your belly?"

Dark lashes drifted down to make black crescents against Loki's pale cheeks as he turned his head away, as if unable to look at his brother any longer. He drew a sharp, shuddering breath. "Tell me that, Thor. Tell me if you've ever known the degradation of being treated worse than the lowliest cur, with no hope of ever escaping captivity unless you give in and do the unthinkable—and yet you still refused. Even when you thought insanity loomed on the horizon, even when your nails were torn and bloodied from clawing at the walls for hours in a futile attempt at escape…even when you sought to take your own life in order to escape, only to be thwarted by your torturers...have you ever experienced such, Brother?"

"Mother and Father never put you in such a place," Thor snapped, masking his horror and unease with irritation. It hurt, like a knife through his heart, to think of his little brother in such a place. But Loki had looked fine when Thor had found him on the mortal aircraft. There was no proof of such torments.

In an utterly dead, emotionless voice the other prince replied, "I am not talking about the prison cells of Asgard."

"Then what  _are_  you talking about?"

"I am talking about the Chitauri dungeons."

And despite the wall of doubts assailing him, Thor was suddenly reminded of that first visit and reconnaissance mission to Loki's cell on his mother's behalf. Loki had knelt before the fire as one of the infamous and unknown drawings crackled amidst the searing flames. In an almost-tortured rasp, Loki had demanded, " _What do they know of darkness? What do they know of the choking blackness of the void? What do they know of isolation? Nothing. Nothing at all."_  Had this been what he meant?

Bile seared the back of Thor's throat. No. No, he couldn't believe his little brother had been subjected to such tortures after falling from the Bifröst. Thor wouldn't— _couldn't_ —believe it. Loki was lying. That was all there was to it. For if he was telling the truth, how had he become the Chitauri's commander on the invasion field? But of course, if the prince asked his brother such a question, of course Loki would have an answer ready; a perfectly good answer, which would come tripping sweetly off his forked tongue, the deceitful snake.

In a lifetime of lies, it was nearly impossible to discern the truth. And Loki could never seem to hold onto sincerity for long, even during these conversations. Not without being poisoned by the mad rage or disdain so prevalent in his dealings with Thor.

Loki at last opened his eyes and stared unseeingly into the slowly-dying hearth flames. Shadows cast by the fire flickered in Loki's empty gaze. His elder brother could only stare in baffled silence. Loki's voice rang with sincerity…but then, it had done so the day of Thor's almost-coronation, when he'd professed his fraternal love for his brother.

For a long moment, Thor continued to stare at Loki and try to fathom what his brother was telling him. Which was the truth? Every word vibrated with such rage and desperation when Loki spoke of what the Chitauri had supposedly done to him…but then, there was the question of Thea. Her identity. Whether she had been intended as a tool for the Chitauri's invasion force, or whether she even existed. And the child, Sophie—what if she, too, were a lie? Was Loki simply attempting to manipulate him? He'd had done so many times before: before the ill-fated trip to Jötunheim over two years ago, on the Bifröst during their climactic battle that had resulted in the shattering of the rainbow bridge, atop the cliffs above the winter-sere woods outside of Stuttgart on Midgard, on the SHIELD Helicarrier, at the summit of Stark Tower…What if this was just another such attempt?

"I told you that you wouldn't listen," Loki murmured, leaning his forearms atop the table. He stared at the paper filled with his careful but miniscule handwriting as if his gaze could devour the words like a starving man at a banquet. A tired green-gray gaze flicked to Thor's face, then back to the paper. Loki sighed. "You  _never_  listen. It seems I'm not the only one who's never sincere."

Wondering vaguely if ruthlessness or true curiosity prompted the question, Thor demanded, "And did  _she_  listen? Your precious Thea? Did she drink up all your sweetly poisoned lies?" But Loki said nothing. Merely closed his eyes and laced his fingers together so that he could rest his chin atop his hands. "Answer me!" Thor shouted. The blood pounded hot through his body once more as fresh anger lanced him. Did Loki have to be mysterious about  _everything?_

A swift transformation overtook the green-eyed prince. The smooth white brow furrowed, wrinkles snarling betwixt his thin black eyebrows. Thin lips pulled back slightly as Loki bared his teeth in something to savage to be called a smile but too pained to be snarl. That new and all-too-familiar arctic loathing filled eyes like emerald knives that threatened to cut Thor open to the bone.

"How dare you speak her name?" Loki slowly rose to his feet, gaze fixed on his foster brother. Each word was chiseled from jagged ice. "How dare you speak of her at all? You don't deserve to know her. You don't deserve to even know  _of_  her. How dare you? How dare you mock what you do not know?"

The words sent an odd pang through Thor's chest. He still couldn't shake the feeling that whoever this Thea was, Loki had cared for her. Perhaps deeply. But Loki had supposedly cared for his foster family, and look what he'd done to all of them. Forcing coldness into his voice, Thor said, "You take offense because I dare to take you to task for lying to her—"

With a swift savagery that seemed to Thor almost to be madness, Loki lunged forward, raging, " _I never lied to her!_ " Thor jerked back from his brother, stunned. Loki roared, " _How dare you!_  How  _dare_  you speak of lies when your own  _father_  lied to you since the day I came to this place! How dare you accuse  _me_  of lying to her when  _you_  are the one who lied to your precious mortal! 'I'll return to you,' you said. You swore it to her; I was  _watching_. Yet I am the liar?  _I_  am?  _You_  had a choice! You didn't have to shatter the Bifröst! You could have gone back! I had no choice!  _None!_  There was  _nothing_  I could do! It's  _your_  fault, damn you! It's all your fault!  _You wouldn't let me return!_ "

"Return  _where?_ " Thor demanded incredulously. "You had no means of traveling between the realms, no way to leave Midgard—"

"I begged you for the tesseract!" Loki snarled. His hands twisted into claws, his ragged nails screeching softly against the ensorcelled glass as his hands flexed. "You wouldn't listen! I begged you to let me go, begged you to—"

" _Demanded_  the tesseract," Thor contradicted. " _Demanded_  I release you, and for what? To wreak more havoc? To butcher more innocent people? To shame our house, betray our king and our honor—"

Loki thumped one fist against the glass. His eyes, bright with a crazed light, seemed almost blue in the uncertain illumination from the torches. "I owe the All-Father nothing.  _Nothing_. Because of him and because of you, Thea is dead now. He sent you after me, sent you to interfere, and because of you, she's dead. She's dead, damn you. They  _both_  are. Don't speak to me of betraying honor. Where is the honor of the House of Odin now? Drowned in the blood of two innocents. If you had just let me go, instead of betraying me yet again, they would still be alive and all those Midgardians wouldn't have died in vain."

Hiding his unease and uncertainty with feigned disgust, the crown prince shook his head. "You've changed, Brother. At least before your betrayal during my exile, you were man enough to accept responsibility for your own mistakes. The blood of the Midgardians you slaughtered isn't on  _my_  hands. Look in the mirror to see the face of a true killer."

Thor nearly attempted to leap through the glass and strike his younger brother when Loki sneered at him yet again, his lip curling in obvious contempt. In a hissing, almost snakelike voice, Loki said, "A killer. Oh, yes, I  _am_  a killer, aren't I? My hands are stained by so much blood they'll never be clean again. I can even tell you where it comes from, all that blood—the blood of innocent women, children. Infants. What was it the little mortal inquisitor said? Ah, yes, I recall it. 'I have red in my ledger, and I'd like to wipe it out.' But you can  _never_  wipe out that much red. Not when the pages drip and gush with it…which is exactly what I told her. Yes, Brother, I am a killer. I know it; I don't need a coward, a traitor, and a murderer like  _you_  to tell me."

Sky-blue eyes widened. "Traitor? Coward? Murderer? How dare you, Laufeyson? You betray the king of Asgard—to whom you owe your life, to whom your swore fealty, who raised you as his own  _son_ —usurp the throne that rightfully belongs to your brother, attempt to decimate Jötunheim, try to kill me while laying waste to mortal homes, join forces with the Chitauri, invade Midgard, murder innocent people, stab  _my_  friend and comrade in the back, command a slaughter, and yet you name  _me_  traitor and coward?"

Loki raised one mocking brow. "Is  _that_  what I did, Brother?" He asked in a faux-shocked tone. "All of that? Tsk, tsk. No wonder you wish I were dead. I must be such an embarrassment to you. I suppose nothing I did would surprise you after all that."

"Don't  _mock_  me, Loki! And do not put words in my mouth!"

His younger brother glared, contempt practically dripping from him. "You think you're so superior, don't you? You think you know everything. You think you know how it was. You and all the rest of the Asgardians have always believed yourselves so far above me, even before you knew the truth. Nothing I could do would ever make me your equal. I would always be inferior to you in the eyes of the kingdom." Loki shook his head in disgust. "Get out of here, Thor. Go away, and don't come back. Tell the queen it's pointless. Ah, yes—I knew why you were here: to offer the queen some small ray of hope that her precious foundling was still in here, somewhere. Well, let me tell you this: Loki Odinson is dead, and I am what's left. Don't seek your answers here. I am finished with you."

"Tell me what happened when you fell from the Bifröst, Loki," Thor demanded, only to be ignored as his brother turned and strode not to the chair, but to the cot that served him for a bed. Flinging himself carelessly upon it, the disguised Frost Giant fixed his eyes on the ceiling of his prison. "Tell me! Curse you, Brother, you  _will_  tell me the truth!"

"You don't deserve the truth," Loki murmured, closing his eyes. "Stop pestering me for it like a child wanting a sweet."

Willing to use almost any means necessary to keep his brother talking, Thor snapped, "Like a child, am I? A child like your little Sophie?" Every muscle in Loki's body stiffened. His eyes shot open, though he didn't look toward the crown prince. "Where did you find her, Brother? Did you trick her into helping you, promising your protection and friendship, feigning affection for her, only to betray her in the end?" Loki's hands convulsed into fists. He took one single sharp breath. His eyes blazed, but he still didn't look at Thor. "What was she to you? Hmmm? A servant? A slave? One of your pawns?" He was using Tyr's goading approach, which Thor realized was pathetic, but if it would make Loki say something, perhaps it was worth it.

There was a long silence, then Loki slowly released the breath he'd been holding. Keeping his eyes focused on the plain stone ceiling above, he said tonelessly, "Still so very blind. Still so dense. How does anything get through that thick skull of yours? I spoke to the king about it some centuries ago; one too many strikes to the head when you failed to catch Mjölnir." Thor growled low in his throat, but said nothing. Finally Loki added, "The question you should ask is not what was she to me, Thor. The proper question is, what was she to  _you?_ "

Thor's mouth fell open. His thoughts stuttered to a halt for a split-second, then began racing through his skull. But no matter how Thor prodded or coaxed, Loki closed his eyes and would speak no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, just wanna put out there, please read the author's notes. I put a lot of warnings and things in them. I write a lot of heavy stuff and the warnings are there for a reason. I want you guys to be able to enjoy my stories without having to worry about being triggered, so please pay attention to the warnings.


	5. No Friendly Drop to Help Me After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Thor tries to puzzle out Loki's ravings and accusations, another brother takes matters into his own hands...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains references to or instances of self-harm, blood, depression, mental illness, suicidal ideation, suicide, Shakespeare, arguments, PTSD, flashbacks, bullying, harassment, emotional abuse, and misogynist slurs.
> 
> BIG ANNOUNCEMENT! I'm going to be turning Darkness into an audio…book. It’ll be playable on anything that plays MP3s. So once I get the first chapter of THAT good to go, I'll let you know. If you guys follow me on Twitter, I make announcements about things related to my fanfics and such, so it's a good way to stay abreast of what's what. Message me if you’re interested in that.
> 
> Oh, and I have some cool stuff for this fic on Pinterest and on DeviantArt. There’s a link to all my different creative sites and social media profiles on my main AO3 profile.

_ The question you should ask is not what was she to me, Thor. The proper question is, what was she to you? _

Loki's words reverberated through Thor's skull as he lay in bed that night, staring into the darkness of his chamber as if that would give him some insight into his brother's cryptic words. No epiphany emerged from the shadows. No moment of enlightenment found the crown prince, in waking or in dreams. He woke the next morning near dawn, bleary-eyed, head aching from the questions circling in his mind. Who was Sophie, this child who was somehow connected to Loki and, apparently, to Thor? How had Loki found her? How had he come to care so deeply for her? And care for her he did; Thor couldn't find it in himself to discount his foster brother's visceral reactions whenever Sophie came up in conversation. What did the child have to do with the mysterious Thea?

The prince was still pondering all of this as he trudged into the dining hall and slumped onto the bench. Within moments Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun had taken spots on either side and across from him. Remaining in a fog of exhaustion, Thor basically ignored the Warriors Three as they filled their plates and began eating. It was only when Fandral and Volstagg both fell silent that Thor realized one of them must have said something to him, and he'd missed it.

"Thor," the corpulent Volstagg said, catching the other Asgardian's eye. "Will you not take some time to spar with us this morning?"

He shook his head. After he finished his meal, he needed to speak to Loki again. He'd already reported yesterday's happenings to his mother; now he needed to know more. He couldn't leave things as they were between himself and his little brother. Like a boorish idiot, he'd lashed out at Loki in attempt to get him to speak, attacking the only two things that seemed to be capable of truly hurting him—the mysterious Thea and Sophie.

"Sif will be there," Fandral added, then casually took a sip of wine. Thor frowned at him.

"Where?"

Now all three of his friends were staring at him. As if speaking to a particularly dull child, Fandral said, "At our sparring session. In the salle. Which we just invited you to."

Thor shook his head. "I can't. I have an important matter to attend to."

There was a long silence. It was Hogun, who was so taciturn that many called him Hogun the Grim, who finally broke that silence. "You are going to see Loki." He waited for Thor to cant his head in acknowledgement before adding, "You are with him often these past weeks." Thor said nothing, thinking of the illusion of the child called Sophie, and the unknown Thea, and Loki's claim that the Chitauri had imprisoned him. It was  _not_  something to share with his friends. Not yet, if ever. Hogun sighed. "He cannot be helped, Thor. He is lost."

"You do the queen a disservice by making her think otherwise," Fandral added softly. Thor shot him a look of glacial sapphire and his friend mumbled an apology, hiding from the prince's ire behind his goblet of wine. Silence fell again. Any attempts at restarting the conversation were feeble, easily shot down with one slashing look from Thor.

At last the Asgardian prince decided he could eat no more, and rose from the table. His friends—three brave warriors who had once been Loki's friends as well—watched him go. Their gazes were heavy on his back as he left the dining hall.

.

The walk to the dungeon hall two mornings later led the prince down corridors of stone that echoed with his footsteps and shaded pathways where early-morning summer sunlight dappled across the floor and briefly warmed his skin. Beyond the arched roofs, he could see the sun still soft and golden with the last kiss of dawn in the sky with its peach and amber clouds. Birds sang to welcome the new morning. Thor sighed, wondering if his little brother missed sunrises, sunsets. Loki had always been fond of the stars, as well. Did he miss being able to gaze up at the star-studded night sky?

From morning light to timeless shadow, Thor stepped into the dungeons, where only torches held back to darkness. With every step the birdsong grew dimmer and dimmer, until it had been silenced all together, leaving only oppressive quiet.

_ Have you ever been shut up in pitch blackness for so long that you cannot remember the feel of the wind, the song of the Asgardian Sea roaring over the edge of the abyss, the sight of sunlight or moonlight or even the faint glimmer of the stars? Have you any idea what it's like, to be wrapped in silence so absolute that you only have the sound of your heart roaring in your ears and your own screams to listen to? _

Did the shadows and the quiet remind Loki of his time in the Chitauri dungeons? Or the time he claimed to have spent, anyway? What had helped him through such terrible times, Thor wondered? He'd asked the day before, and the day before that, only to be ignored. He resolved to ask his brother again when he arrived at his cell this time. It was Midsummer's Day; he was due for some luck.

But Thor slowed as he approached when he heard a snide voice ask, "Another drawing? Quite the artist, aren't you, little brother?"

_ Tyr _ , Thor thought, rolling his eyes. Didn't his older brother have anything better to do an hour after dawn besides taunt Loki? Tryst with a chambermaid or get drunk, for instance? Or pound on someone in the practice yard? Squaring his shoulders, he picked up the pace.

"I've heard the guards say you're drawing a woman," Tyr continued to jeer at his foster brother. A jolt of electricity snapped through Thor's body. A woman? Was it Thea? "Feeling lonely, are we, little Frost Giant? Who is she, the woman in your drawings? Your current favorite? Maybe I should pay her a visit; she must be something special if she can hold your interest this long. What's her name?"

"If you do not stop talking, I will—"

"You'll what?" Tyr demanded, laughing. "Reach through the shielded glass and kill me? As if you could. And even if you were able to, well…Thor would  _really_  hate you then. And what would Mother and Father say? That would be your second attempt at fratricide. Who's next on your list? Balder? Besides, you don't need to answer. I merely wished to see if you would. I already know your woman's name. Thea, wasn't it?"

At that, Thor launched into a run just as the sound of something heavy hitting glass echoed down the corridor. Thor rounded the corner to see Loki plastered to the large pane of ensorcelled glass, lips twisted into a feral snarl, eyes blazing. Only Tyr's broad back and the back of his crow-dark hair were visible to Thor, but the prince was fairly certain his elder brother was sneering.

"Shut up!" Loki yelled. "Shut up!"

"Oh-ho!" Tyr folded his massive arms across his chest and laughed. "Well, well,  _well_. Don't you remember Mother's lessons about sharing, Brother? I promise not to hurt the silly little slut. I only mean to—"

But Loki rammed the glass hard enough that even Tyr went quiet. Dark brows knotted, shoulders and chest heaving with every ragged breath, Loki spat from between clenched teeth, "Get. Out. You filthy swine,  _get out!_ "

"Swine, am I?" Tyr's voice turned savage. "You treacherous little bast—"

"Tyr!" Thor snapped, imbuing his voice with that regal coldness his father had taught him in his youth. His elder brother turned and grinned when he saw Thor, glacier-blue eyes warming slightly, but the grin slipped away when he caught sight of the crown prince's expression. Tyr opened his mouth to say something but Thor ruthlessly cut him off. "You will not speak to Loki, or of someone under his protection, with such disrespect."

Clearly flabbergasted, the elder prince said, "Thor…he's under house arrest. Bor's ghost, he's in  _prison_."

Icily, Thor said, "Which changes nothing. He is still a prince of the royal household."

"He's a Frost Giant," Tyr hissed.

"He is my brother and a prince of Asgard, and you  _will_  speak to him and of him with respect, or I shall take this matter to the king," Thor snapped. Wide-eyed, Tyr offered him a mocking, truncated bow and shoved past him, disdaining to bid him a proper goodbye. Thor didn't care. He didn't know what had possessed him to threaten his elder brother with kingly interference, since Odin probably would have done nothing—he'd yet to even reprimand Tyr for his jibing Loki—but the half-insane rage and grief in Loki's eyes had forced Thor to act before he'd actually formed a thought.

Dismissing his elder brother for the moment, the crown prince focused on his younger brother. Loki's forehead was pressed to the glass; he ignored the needle-pricks of the  _seiðr_  meant to keep him imprisoned. His hands had relaxed from their tense fists. Now they lay palm-down against the window. Loki's breathing had evened out. He no longer panted for breath like a rabid wolf.

"Why?" Loki demanded softly, not looking up at Thor.

"Why what?" Thor replied, voice just as soft.

"Why did you defend me to him?" Because Loki kept his head bent, Thor couldn't quite gauge the new expression twisting his face. "Maintaining unity among the ranks, were you? Except Tyr is your brother—your  _real_  brother. So why?"

A sigh heaved through the prince, then he gestured to a guard for a chair. He'd made provisions to have one brought last night. Now the guard dragged the comfortable seat to the big Asgardian, who dropped into it with another sigh. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees and studied his younger foster brother—the bowed head, the slumped shoulders, the exhaustion in every line of his body. Had Loki been sleeping these last months? It seemed likely that he hadn't. Seconds ticked by in silence, then minutes. Loki didn't move. Neither did Thor. It was almost like those staring games they'd played as boys, seeing who would blink first. In the end, they both moved at the same time, Thor leaning back as Loki lifted his head.

Thor folded his arms across his chest. "I'll make you a bargain, Brother. For every question of yours I answer, you answer one of mine. Deal?" He ignored the pang that always shot through him when he thought of deals…when he thought of Jane.

Pale lips pursed as Loki considered. After a moment, the disguised Frost Giant nodded slowly. "Very well…but the answers to the questions must be of equal value. I'll not trade my soul for the knowledge of what you ate for breakfast."

Inclining his head, Thor replied, "Fair enough. Why did I defend you to Tyr? Because you're his brother and he has no right to attack you in such a way; because no matter what you've done, no matter that the king has judged you a criminal, you don't deserve to be tormented by your own kin; and because you're my little brother, and that's what elder brothers are supposed to do for their little brothers."

Pushing away from the glass, Loki scoffed. "When will you get it through your thick skull that I'm  _adopted_?"

Unperturbed, Thor asked, "When will you get it through yours that I don't care?" Loki shot him an indecipherable look, but said nothing. "I've known you were adopted since before I came to Midgard to bring you home. Do you think it mattered then? It didn't. It certainly doesn't matter to me now."

"Well, then, what about…" A muscle flexed in Loki's jaw, and his hands convulsed into fists before he forced them to relax. "What about…Thea? She is no kin of yours. Why should you defend her to Tyr?"

"Because it is very obvious to me that you cared about her a great deal," Thor said gently, "and Tyr should respect that, as I do."

This time his little brother's expression was clear as a cloudless sky. "Oh?" He snarled. " _Do_  you?"

"I should not have said what I did before," Thor said. "I was angry. You're very good at provoking me. But then, that's what little brothers are supposed to do to their elder brothers, so I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised."

Loki stared at him for a long moment, then asked, "Are you drunk?"

Startled, Thor blinked. "No. Why?"

"Did Fandral get you to drink poppy juice again?"

"Get me to…no. Why?"

Long moments of intense scrutiny passed, then emerald eyes at last looked away and Loki said wearily, "Why are you here, Thor?"

"Because I promised you I would listen."

A wry chuckle echoed down the corridor as Loki shook his head. "We both know you're incapable of pulling  _that_  off. I told you to go away. So why are you here?"

"Because I promised."

The two brothers regarded each other for a few moments. Loki stood beside the fireplace now, slender arms folded and laid against the side of the fireplace mantel. His face was thin, and paler than ever, his eyes vibrant jade against his unhealthy pallor. There were dark shadows beneath those eyes, firming Thor's conclusion that he hadn't slept, and Thor saw that Loki's nails on the hand closest to the window were ragged and torn to the quick, bloodied in places. Scrapes marred his knuckles. What had he been doing to himself?

"My turn for questions now," Thor said, "unless you have something else you wish to ask." When Loki shook his head, the prince asked, "How did Thea die?" Because if Loki had killed her, then there was no point in continuing the conversation; if Loki could kill someone he cared for as deeply as he obviously seemed to care for Thea, then he was capable of anything, any treachery.

Dropping his chin to rest atop his forearms, Loki replied in a tight voice, "The Chitauri killed her. Poison."

"Were you with her?" Thor pressed.

A slow, somber shake of the head as jade eyes stared off into the distance, gazing down roads of memory. "No…but I should have been."

Baffled, Thor asked, "Why?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, shifting to grip the mantel tightly with one hand, Loki drew a short, sharp breath. Let it out slowly, as if fighting for control of himself. He bowed his head; his hair fell around his face like an inky curtain, obscuring Thor's view of his expression. He rasped, "Why does it matter?"

"Because you feel guilty for not being with her when she died," Thor said gently. "I want to know why." When Loki said nothing, he added, "Do you remember when we were boys, and Tyr stole your favorite storybook? Ripped out the pages and threw the binding on the midden pile? You remember that; I can see you do." Loki shook his head and rolled his eyes, but when Thor just stared at him, he gave a grudging nod. "You remember how Mother found you crying in your room and you wouldn't tell her what had happened? You wouldn't explain to Father, to Víðarr or Hermod or even Balder, and we could  _always_  talk to Balder. You wouldn't speak to anyone…but you spoke to me. You trusted me then."

"I was a boy," Loki said coolly. "Children will trust where they shouldn't. Look at your precious mortal. Midgardians are very much like children, and your little Midgardian trusted in your promise to return…and yet here you are."

Anger flashed through the Asgardian prince, but he swallowed it back—with difficulty. Giving into his anger had pushed Loki away every time. He couldn't afford to let that happen. It seemed as if, despite his younger brother's reticence, they were making a little more headway. He wouldn't let that progress slip through his fingers. So he tamped down the irritation and regret that always plagued him when he thought of Jane, and focused on his little brother.

"I wish you would trust me, Loki."

"Yes, of course I'm going to trust you when  _you_  are the reason I'm here in the first place instead of with—" He cut off abruptly, glaring fiercely at the prince. A malevolent spark burned in the depths of absinthe-green eyes.

"Tell me," Thor said softly. "What were you going to say? Who are you supposed to be with? Tell me, Brother."

But his brother shook his head. "I will not be tricked into baring my soul for your twisted pleasure, Odinson. I owe you no answers."

"You promised to answer my questions, Brother. I'll forego the second to receive an answer to the first—why do you feel guilty for not being with her when she died? Because you could have saved her?"

"No," Loki spat. "I couldn't have saved her.  _You_  made sure of that."

"Then why—"

"Because I  _promised_  her!" Loki suddenly snarled, taking a single shaking step toward Thor. A feverish light burned in his eyes as he cried, "She was afraid to die alone. She was so afraid, and so I promised her, only to be far from her side when she succumbed at last. Because of  _you!_  She died, alone and frightened and in pain,  _because of you!_ "

"Loki—"

"Do you know what Chitauri poison  _does?_  To a woman? To a  _child?_  To an…" He trailed off and turned away, to slam his fist into the wall. It left a smear of blood on the white stone, but it didn't seem to affect Loki at all. Pressing his hands flat to the wall, he hunched his shoulders and bowed his head, mumbled something so softly under his breath that Thor couldn't hear it.

"Loki…Brother, I never meant…"

His brother twisted around, green eyes blazing, and he fixed the Asgardian prince with a hostile look. "I don't  _care_  what you meant. That doesn't bring her back. That doesn't bring  _either_  of them back! That doesn't erase the fact that Thea's last hours were filled with suffering and agony. I was told her death was a hard one, that she died cursing my name with her last breath for betraying that vow. But then, I suppose you're not surprised that I didn't keep my promise. After all, I'm  _never_  sincere, am I?"

Thor stared at him, at the way he shuddered, the sweat dampening his forehead and temples, the anguish in his eyes. Suffering and agony…because of Thor, because he'd stopped his little brother from murdering innocent people…at least, that's what Loki claimed. Though he wasn't certain of the verity of the details, Thor believed Thea  _had_  died, and died a hard death, for it to strike Loki so.

"I'm sorry, Loki, for what happened to her," Thor murmured. And he was; surely his brother could see that. After struggling with the idea that it might not be the best question under the circumstances, Thor finally asked his brother, "Did you love her?" He knew the answer, or was fairly certain he did…but he wanted to hear what Loki would say.

He scoffed, sounding weary again. He leaned against the mantel. "Don't be stupid. I? Love a mortal? A mere child compared to our kind? You really are a blithering idiot, Thor."

And yet…the words didn't quite ring so sincerely this time. Or was that lack of sincerity just another ploy of Loki's to manipulate his foster brother? Ignoring his brother's hostility—the only way they'd actually have a conversation that lasted more than five minutes that didn't involve curses and shouting—Thor asked, "What were you muttering before?"

"Nothing," Loki snapped, his expression hardening. "A bit of verse that seemed apt; you wouldn't know it, it is from Midgard." A momentary softness crossed his face. "Thea told it to me," he said, as if to himself. "She had a gift for remembering such things."

"Will you not share it with me?"

Loki shot him a look that plainly said he was intruding on some important private recollecting with his very stupid question. "Why? It's not important."

"Then why not tell me?"

Shoving off from the mantel, Loki replied, "Because you're wasting my time. But since you'll not cease whining for it like a neglected puppy, I suppose I must indulge you." Staring into the fire, voice empty of any emotion, he recited as if dead, " _'What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been her timeless end: O churl! Drunk all, and left…_ '" There was a hitch in Loki's voice, just the slightest waver, before he concluded, " _'And left no friendly drop to help me after?_ '"

Wondering how to keep Loki talking, Thor murmured, "I didn't know her fate was mixed into the balance, Brother. Why didn't you tell me about her?"

Exhausted emerald eyes flicked to him, then away. "It wouldn't have changed anything; you wouldn't have believed me." A pause, then Loki asked in an emotionless voice, "Do you even believe me now?"

"I see how much her death has hurt you."

Verdant eyes drifted shut. "Oh, you see, do you, Brother? You  _see_. Tell me, what do you know of pain, Thor? What have you ever truly lost during the span of your perfect life?"

"For one terrible night and day, I thought Father was dead," Thor said coolly, and he thought he saw Loki flinch, almost imperceptibly…but it might have been his imagination. "You told me Father was dead. You looked me in the eye and lied to me, made me think that the last thing I'd ever said to my father, the last thing I would  _ever_  be able to say to him, was that he was an old man and a fool." Loki said nothing, but his expression seemed to soften for a moment, and his eyes when they opened seemed full of sorrow. Acting on instinct, Thor didn't push the moment of softening. He merely asked, keeping his voice as gentle as he could, "And what of the child, Sophie? How did she die?"

Loki's eyes widened and his features twisted as if he'd been stabbed. His hand crept toward his heart before tightening into a fist. He squeezed his eyes shut. For several moments his throat worked convulsively, and he swallowed hard. The color drained from his face. Thor had to fight the urge to jump to his feet and demand if his brother was all right.

"Poison," Loki choked out, and the misery and hatred saturating that one word struck Thor like a fist to the belly. "The same as her…the same as Thea. And for that, when my sentence is ended here, I will hunt down Thanos, even if I must sojourn to the ends of the universe, and I will drive a sword through his heartless chest. I'll have his blood, even if I have to crawl over broken glass for it. Even if I have to drink it. Nothing in this universe will stop me from killing him."

Loki locked eyes with Thor and the crown prince's brow furrowed. Somehow, in the light, his brother's eyes looked almost electric blue. It was there for a moment, a flicker of all-too-familiar cerulean, before it faded away, leaving only viridian in its wake. Had the crown prince simply imagined that change? He couldn't be sure, but it reminded him of…of something. Nonplussed, Thor tried to find something to say, but could think of nothing. He could only stare at his brother, at the mad gleam of hatred burning in his gaze, before Loki cleared his expression of all emotion.

With a sigh, Loki moved to the table and sank into his chair. Papers covered the smooth wooden surface of the table, many filled with Loki's handwriting. A few seemed to display unfinished sketches, but they sat at such angles that Thor couldn't decipher them. For several long moments Loki shifted papers to and fro, eyeing them with a strange apathy. Then he held up his pointer-finger as if in warning.

"One question left, Thor," he said tonelessly. "Use it wisely."

Buying time to figure out a good question, Thor sat back and watched his brother as Loki picked up a half-done sketch and studied it with an unearthly intensity. Emerald eyes narrowed as they took in every charcoal-etched feature. The Asgardian prince wished he was in a position to see the drawing but…wait…

"May I see that?" Thor asked, a spark of triumph beginning to grow in his chest. If Loki was drawing the Midgardian woman who seemed to constantly occupy his thoughts, then at last Thor could put a face to her. But his hopes plummeted when his brother sneered and denied him. So much for getting his hands on one of the drawings. Ponderous silence descended once more.

At last, unable to think of anything more pertinent, he asked, "Why did the Chitauri even  _have_  a child like Sophie?"

Loki sighed, shoulders slumping. He dropped the drawing to the table and let his head fall backward against the chair. Closing his eyes, he passed his hands over his face, as if attempting to smooth away any telling emotions. Thor merely waited for his brother to speak. At last Loki said, "If I say this, I want no more questions. I will answer no more questions. Do you hear me? You will leave me in peace."

"As you wish, Brother. After this, I'll go. You'll not see me until tomorrow."

"Very well," Loki murmured. "The Chitauri had Sophie because they had Thea…and because they'd captured me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, what do you guys make of that? Hmmm? Any theories? Of course I know what it means, but I'm curious as to what my readers think. And while my beta is being kind enough as to read this fic, she isn't asking any questions, which depresses me, because you all know I like to tease. So PLEASE ask questions! Love you all! Ta-ta!


	6. Deep in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor continues trying to coax information from Loki, who claims to be haunted by phantoms of the past...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Deep in the Dark" is one of my favorite songs. It's the lullaby from the animated Charlotte's Web. 
> 
> For anyone who skipped the last new author's note, I'm going to be making Darkness into an audio book (basically) available for listening and downloading. I'll begin the process for that this week.
> 
> Warning: this chapter contains mentions of, references to, or instances of self-harm, depression, mental illness, PTSD, suicidal ideation, war, death, torture, harassment, emotional abuse, murder, treason, betrayal, loneliness, lies, manipulation, and heartache.

"The Chitauri had Sophie because they had Thea…and because they'd captured me."

"Because they'd captured you?" Utterly baffled, Thor shook his head. "I do not understand. Were you and Thea bait with which to trap Sophie?" Loki shook his head, looking exasperated. "Loki, I don't understand. Explain it to me, please."

But Loki merely shook his head again. "You're out of questions, Brother, and you gave me your word you would leave me in peace. Go now."

"Loki—"

His brother bit out from between clenched teeth, "Get.  _Out._ "

Instinct told Thor that pushing Loki now would be a very bad idea. There was a brittle tension in him that the other prince could sense, even though Loki held himself stiff and aloof from Thor. So the crown prince inclined his head in acquiescence, even though everything in him clamored to stay with his little brother, and Thor left the dungeons. He had much to think about…and just perhaps, a plan to set in motion.

.

The sun rose and set at least three dozen times without any more progress being made regarding discovering the story of Loki, Thea, and the child known as Sophie. As before, when Loki sensed Thor's presence he would stop whatever he was doing and either sit at the table or lie down on his cot and stare at the ceiling until his foster brother went away again. He hardly responded to any of Thor's questions or promptings, except a few times when the crown prince came to see his brother late in the night. Sometimes then, Thor would speak to Loki for hours at a time, only to receive a small bit of information in return.

"Did you know anything about her family?" Thor might ask near the end of the night.

"Her mother is a musician," Loki would say. "Her father was a brute and a fool that abandoned Thea, her mother, and her siblings."

"What did she look like?"

"You've never seen someone so lovely."

"How old was she?" Thor might ask.

"Too young to die so brutally," Loki would reply, tone arctic, cutting Thor to the bone. "Too young to be caged in the dark and then murdered thanks to the treachery of a supposed kinsman."

But these exchanges were brief and rare. Through them all ran one common vein, however—Loki would, no matter the cost, deliver swift and brutal justice to the Chitauri ruler, Thanos, for what he'd done to Thea and Sophie after he was released from the Asgardian prison. And because of that, Thor at last had something to bargain with. He merely needed his father to agree.

.

"Absolutely not," Odin snapped.

Thor gritted his teeth, but didn't lash out under the influence of the hot frustration boiling in his blood. He'd learned his lesson after those three days spent on Midgard. He'd learned what it felt like to know that the last thing ever spoken to a loved one were words drenched in cruelty. So instead of snapping back at Odin, he drew a deep breath and fought for calm.

It had been nearly two months since that last full conversation with Loki. Thor chafed under the need to know more of his brother's story. Something, some instinct, told him that time was of the essence. Now he, his mother, and his father sat alone in his father's conference room, discussing the matter. Rather, Thor was petitioning Odin for help.

"Father…if Loki is telling the truth…if the Chitauri did what I suspect—imprisoning him, torturing him, and then killing the woman he loved and a child he cared for—do we not owe it to him, and to them, to see them avenged?"

"You should know better than anyone that your…that Loki is incapable of truthfulness. He's manipulating you. He would never fall in love with a Midgardian. Or do you not recall his words to the Midgardian warrior known as Fury? 'An ant has no quarrel with a boot.' That is what he thinks of mortals. Does that sound like a man in love? Does that sound like someone who is being forced to conquer a world? He sought to rule them, not save them. He cared for no one's well-being but his own. Certainly not this Thea or this Midgardian child."

But the crown prince shook his head. "Father, I'm telling you—he spoke with real sincerity! Whoever Thea was, he loved her, and the Chitauri ruler murdered her. I think they were forcing him to lead the invasion by threatening her and then…" And then he'd gotten in his brother's way. The Asgardian warrior couldn't regret saving Midgard, helping his new mortal friends and allies…but if he'd known about the woman his brother clearly loved, how would it have changed things? "I believe the Chitauri blackmailed Loki somehow, using Thea and perhaps Sophie."

Odin scoffed. "How? What was this child to Loki? Surely not his own offspring."

Thor shook his head. "I don't see how she could be; she was too old in the illusion he conjured. But he  _does_  care for her. I could see that plainly in how he spoke to her. Somehow he allowed himself to soften towards this child and this woman."

Leaning back in his chair, he turned to Frigga, who sat beside him, quiet and somber in her navy blue gown. Thor bit back a frown. His mother had yet to change out of such dark colors, even now that they'd found Loki and brought him home. Where the strain of Loki's treachery had manifested in his father as more lines marring his weathered face and a thinning of the thick white hair and snowy beard, it had unfolded in the queen as melancholy impervious to everything Thor and his brothers attempted to raise her spirits.

Frigga brushed her hair back, tucking a stray bronze lock behind her ear. "Thor…I want to believe Loki can be…helped, just as much your father does. Just as much as you do. But what you're proposing is madness. It could spell ruin for the entire kingdom, perhaps even all nine realms. Loki cannot be trusted as yet."

"Mother, I know him. I  _know_  him. Let me try this. Let me attempt to bargain with him. After all, he is the one who must convince Father that he is trustworthy. I'll make certain he understands that. Please, Mother…I truly believe that this will work. Won't you let me try? Father, please."

The king and queen exchanged uncertain glances, then Odin turned back to his son. The single burning blue eye roved over Thor's features as if searching for some sign. The crown prince didn't know what his father sought; he only gazed back, face regal and gaze beseeching, hoping with all his heart that his father would trust him in this. If Loki was telling the truth…it changed many things. Not everything, but a great deal.

At last Odin sighed. "Even if you are right, even if Loki was blackmailed regarding the mortal realm…what of his betrayal before the shattering of the Bifröst? What of his attack against you? He sent the Destroyer to kill you, attempted to slaughter the Frost Giants. Has he made some excuse about that?"

"No, but I can speak to him about it. My instincts tell me there is more there than any of us know yet. I feel…" Thor lifted his hands as if he could grasp the words from the air. They curled into fists as he sighed. "Father, I feel there is more to all of this than we know."

"And you believe you can convince Loki to give up his secrets so easily?"

"Not easily," Thor contradicted. "But he thirsts for vengeance against Thanos and the Chitauri. It burns in him, Father. I can see it. We can use that to our advantage. Please, Father, let me try!"

Silence stretched between the king and his heir as they regarded each other. Thor couldn't read his father's expression. Would Odin understand that Thor could feel something, some small part of Loki, reaching out to him? Like a drowning man desperately reaching for a safe shore, Thor's younger brother strained toward him, even while his grief-fueled, half-mad rage held him back as surely as iron chains. How to convince Odin of this? Without the full story of what had happened after Loki fell from the Bifröst, Thor didn't think there was a way to make his father believe.

But finally, the king of Asgard nodded once. "All right. Offer him your bargain. We shall see what happens."

.

More than a fortnight went by without response from Loki; whenever Thor was there, Loki seemed to be sleeping. The crown prince suspected his brother of faking it, but couldn't be certain.

Yet on the fifth day of the third week, Thor felt something ice-cold and piercing the moment he stepped into the dungeons.  _Seiðr_ , sparking and buzzing with power, rippled through the air and hummed along the corridor leading toward Loki's cell. A fleeting panic lanced the crown prince, but he suppressed it. Last time he'd felt such power from his brother's prison, it had been because Loki was summoning the illusion of Sophie. It had been weeks since Loki had attempted such a thing, though. Uneasy, the prince picked up his pace, approaching his brother's cell with caution. He halted just out of Loki's line of sight, so that he could observe the pseudo-Æsir without being seen.

As he had that first time, Loki hunched against the plain white wall of his prison, knees drawn up to his chest. But this time both hands were stretched palm-out before him, shaking with some terrible strain. Loki's sleeves were rolled up and chords of muscle strained against the pale flesh. Sweat streamed down the white brow, plastering strands of ebony hair to temples, cheeks, and neck. A terrible light burned in the verdant depths of his gaze as he watched the twining shadows and wisps of emerald light twist together to form the familiar illusion of the dark-haired child Loki called Sophie.

Loki's breath whistled between his clenched teeth as he struggled against the bonds of his prison. The  _seiðr_  that the All-Father had placed around the prison and laced throughout the room vibrated and hummed as Loki fought to bring his spell to fruition. The ensorcelled glass shield rattled in its casement with the force of the magic battering at it, but his little brother ignored it as he twisted his hands back and forth, as if weaving the magic of the illusion. A thin trickle of blood leaked from both nostrils as Loki leaned forward, brow furrowing in fierce concentration. Wrinkles snarled across Loki's forehead and between his eyebrows.

"I must," Loki whispered, eyes narrowing. "To avoid it is…is cowardice. I must do this." Taking a deep breath, the prince stretched his hands out toward the child and seemed almost to smooth down the air in front of it. As Thor watched, the illusion began to shrink.

No, Thor realized. Not shrink. The girl was getting younger. The dark curls shortened, the child's body slimmed out and shrunk down as the limbs grew shorter, plumper with baby fat. Loki's entire body was shaking violently as this point. His breath came in ragged gasps and his chest heaved with the effort of manipulating the illusion. Wetness gleamed in his emerald eyes. Anguish twisted the pale features. Thor frowned. What was his brother doing? And why?

When the illusion showed a child of perhaps two years of age, suddenly Loki jerked his hands back with a sharp intake of breath that was almost a sob. Clutching his hands to his chest as if wounded, he whispered, "I cannot…I cannot. Thea, forgive me, I cannot bear to…"

Somehow the illusion held—though Loki shuddered and sweated—an illusion of a two-year-old girl with wisps of baby-fine black hair in a green velvet smock embroidered in gold, typical Asgardian dress for a child that age of a rich family. The stuffed black bear with its green eyes had made a return, as well, clutched now in the chubby arms of the toddler. The girl's small head was bent over the bear so that Thor couldn't see her features.

Why had Loki made her younger? Was he trying to remember a time before the Chitauri? But no, he'd met Sophie after being taken prisoner by the Chitauri, he'd said. Unless he'd been lying. Why was he changing the illusion?

In a voice choked with grief, Loki whispered, "Oh, Sophie…you look so much like your mother. I always wondered if…wondered…little one, forgive me. Forgive me for what they did to you. I'm so sorry."

The illusion lifted its head, but the fall of dark curl and the angle prevented Thor from seeing anything but the chubby roundness of Sophie's cheek and the delicate curve of her ear. She must have done something, however, because a look of intense pain flashed across Loki's face and he reached out one trembling hand to her. His fingers touched her cheek before he lifted his hand and laid it atop her head. The thin lips formed a trembling smile and to Thor's astonishment, a tear welled up from the wet green eyes and spilled down Loki's cheek.

"You would have been so beautiful when you grew up," he whispered. "Just like your mother. I'm so, so sorry,  _älskling_. I'm so sorry."

He slumped back against the wall as the vision faded and closed his eyes. Thor watched in heartbroken silence as his little brother, who always tried to appear so strong, so indifferent, quietly fell to pieces. A few silent tears slid down his cheeks before he dropped his face into the cup of one hand and merely sat there, silent and still save for the occasional shudder racking his long, lean frame. At last he dropped his head back and heaved a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Thea," Loki murmured, staring up at the ceiling. "I couldn't do it. I cannot look at her as…as she…I cannot do it. Forgive me."

Loki had sat in silence for several long minutes before Thor had the courage to step out of the shadows and call his brother's name. Loki didn't look toward him; merely closed his eyes and sighed.

"I am not in the mood today, Thor. Go away."

"I've come to make a bargain with you," the crown prince said, as if he hadn't seen his brother weeping over the changed illusion of a little girl only moments before. "I want to know what happened to you after you fell from the Bifrost."

Without his customary sneer, Loki murmured, "Don't you know it is unhealthy to get everything you want?"

Coming to a stop just at the window, Thor said, "We can both have what we want. I have spoken to Father, and he is willing to obey the conditions of this bargain. If you tell me what happened to you—the entire truth, all of it, and you can convince Father—then we will help you get your revenge on Thanos."

Now Loki looked at him, brows slightly furrowed, mild incredulity on his face. Dark shadows circled his eyes; Thor thought he looked a bit like he had on Midgard after the Chitauri had sent him there. How had he not noticed how sick Loki had looked then? Well, other than because he'd been preoccupied with stopping his brother from slaughtering the Midgardians.

"You will…help me…kill Thanos," Loki said. Thor nodded, never taking his eyes from his brother's face. Loki shook his head slowly, obviously puzzlement twisting his features. "Why would you do that?"

"To kill the villain who murdered the woman my little brother loved."

Closing his eyes, Loki turned his face away. "What do you know about it? Nothing. I never said I loved her. And I doubt the All-Father is going to let me out just so I can seek my revenge."

Thor shrugged. "He has sworn it to me and to Mother. Why would you doubt him?"

The sardonic look Loki hit him with could have drawn blood from a stone. "Forgive me, Brother, but  _that_  is a  _very_  stupid question. I wouldn't trust the All-Father as far as I could throw him."

"Then trust  _me_ , Brother. Have I ever deceived you?" When Loki said nothing, Thor ran a hand through his hair and tried to think. Sometimes when his little brother was being particularly obstinate, he could get Loki talking by changing the subject a little. Asking a different question. But what question? There were so many he still had…but one, Thor thought, that he really should have asked a while ago.

He had a choice, the crown prince realized. He could satisfy his own curiosity, or he could ensure that the Chitauri weren't as much of a threat as they all feared. That was, of course, assuming Loki was telling the truth…and assuming Odin believed whatever his foster son said, truth or not. That was why Thor had made the All-Father's belief a hinge-point for Loki's plans for revenge.

"Tell me, Brother…could Thea  _truly_  destroy an entire realm with merely a wave of her hand?"

To his surprise, Loki threw back his head and laughed. There was just the faintest mocking edge to the foster prince's amusement, but Thor ignored it. When he'd finally stopped laughing, the pseudo-Asgardian said, "You really are a fool, Thor. Of course she couldn't. No Midgardian I know of possesses that much power. Even Odin cannot do that without the use of his mighty Infinity Gauntlet. You'll believe anything, won't you?"

_ Bratling _ , Thor thought, but didn't say aloud. Now wasn't the time to indulge in insults. Instead, glaring, Thor demanded, "Had she any power at all?"

The amusement on Loki's face vanished like night mist in the morning sun, to be replaced by something betwixt wistful pain and awe. "Oh, yes. Hers was the wonder of dreams brought to fruition, the power to make memories live again, the magic of illusion as real as life." He held up his hand, curled into a fist, then snapped open his long fingers, flexing them. Staring at his empty palm, Loki murmured, "That was her gift, and the Chitauri desired to study it and its myriad effects once they saw what it could do in battle." Shaking himself as if from a dream, the other prince said coolly to the Asgardian, "But I'm a bit busy at the moment, Brother, so perhaps you'll be a decent fellow and leave me alone. Go polish your helmet."

A muscle twitched in Thor's jaw. Would his brother  _never_  cease mocking him over that blasted helmet? As if his was any better. Feathers versus cow-horns, as they'd jibed each other often enough. But instead of snapping, Thor said, "One last question. A simple one."

"Erm…no."

"It's a very simple question, Loki, it will cost you nothing. In the illusion of Sophie, she held a stuffed bear; black, with green eyes. Where did she get it?" When Loki hesitated, eyeing Thor warily, the prince shrugged. "A simple enough question, is it not?"

A blatant challenge, that. One Loki could not back down from—his pride wouldn't allow it.

After an excruciating silence, broken only by the crackle of flames and Loki's increasingly harsh breathing, the adopted prince said tersely, " _I_  made it for her…but I never had the chance to gift her with it." Seeing Thor's expression, he added in a voice sharp with accusation, "She was murdered before I had that chance."

And Thor thought of his foster brother weeping silently for the dead child, and felt something twist savagely in his heart. "I  _am_  sorry, Loki."

Loki sneered. Viciousness twisted his features and that icy hatred, which Thor had hoped he wouldn't see today—it had been absent until now—filled his brother's gaze like abyssal fire. "Oh, you're  _sorry_. Tell me, Thor, what do you dream of these days? Is it still the glories of war and the pleasure of women?" Before Thor could reply, his younger brother spat, "Do you know what I dream, Brother? Do you know what fills my slumber?" Numbly the crown prince shook his head. "A woman's screams and the sound of a…" Suddenly Loki frowned. Something that might've been horror flickered in his eyes before vanishing. "What is that?"

Puzzled, Thor scanned the corridor, but saw nothing. All was emptiness and shadows dancing across the walls. He turned back to Loki. "What's what?"

"That sound…don't you hear it?"

Thor listened, but there was only the steady drum of his heart and his breathing mingled with his brother's. "I hear nothing. What is it?"

But his younger brother shook his head. "Nothing. My imagination, I suppose." But Thor knew Loki was lying, even as he said, "It doesn't matter. Go away, Thor. You've used up my patience; now you're boring me."

"Tell me what happened, Brother," Thor said softly. "What happened when you fell from the Bifröst? If you tell me, I can help you avenge them. Tell me."

"I owe you no answers."

"Loki, I'm trying to  _help_  you! I'm trying to understand! Why do you fight me? Why won't you let me help you?"

In a voice that was a mere thread of sound, a thread that threatened to strangle Thor, the foster prince said, "You can't help me, Thor. Every time I look at you I see Thea's blood on your hands. I see Sophie… _my_  little Sophie…her blood…she never even had the chance to…and it was  _your_  fault!  _Your_  fault they killed her!  _Your_  fault she's dead!"

"You didn't tell me! How was I to know?"

"Because you should have  _known_  me! You should have  _trusted_  me! Why would I butcher innocent people? Why would I invade Midgard, launch an attack on them, without good reason? You should have known there was a reason! You should have left me alone to do what needed to be done instead of interfering!"

Swallowing back sudden rage, Thor demanded, "How was I to know? You tried to kill me, Loki. You usurped the throne in my absence when Father fell into the Odinsleep—"

"Mother declared me king!" Loki snapped, surging to his feet. "I never wanted the throne! I only took it because Balder and Hermod weren't of age, Víðarr was off on his coming-of-age quest, you'd gotten yourself exiled, and Mother—"

"What about the Destroyer?" Thor demanded coolly.

Loki snarled an obscenity under his breath. "We have been over this. What do you want me to say?"

"Explain why you sent it to kill me."

"I didn't," Loki snapped. "I've said this before, if you'd been paying attention. I told it to make sure you didn't come home because if you had, you would have ruined everything."

"Everything? What is everything? What were you trying to do? Slaughter the Frost Giants? Because yes, Brother, I would have 'ruined' your attempt to murder an entire race."

Loki thumped his fist against the glass. "How dare you? I was forced to take drastic action in order to clean up  _your_  mess. The Frost Giants had declared war on us, Father was in the Odinsleep, we had  _no_  idea when he would awaken, and the Fates only know what other trouble  _you_  would have brought down on us. Without Father, we couldn't have won a war against Jötunheim. The Frost Giants would have butchered us all."

Thor stared at him, jaw slightly slack. Loki glared back, eyes blazing with that odd mix of emerald and cerulean again. "What?" Thor mumbled. "You…my mess?"

"I  _told_  you to leave the Frost Giants alone. I  _told_  you not to go to Jötunheim, I  _told_  you to let it go when the Frost Giant lord tried to pick a fight with you, but you—wouldn't—listen.  _You_  sparked the war, remember? Not me. I did what I had to do in order to protect Asgard."

Blinking, flabbergasted, Thor demanded, " _That_  is why you did all of that? To stop the Frost Giants? But why kill them all?"

Loki scoffed. "How else did you expect me to stop them? At first, I thought I would simply get rid of Laufey, throw the Giants into chaos so they couldn't move on us. After all, Laufey had tried to kill me once upon a time, and he desperately wanted to kill Odin. But then I learned I couldn't trust any of the courtiers here," the smooth voice deepened into an infuriated snarl, "couldn't trust Heimdall or Sif or the Three. My so-called  _friends_. How was I to win a war, if it came to that, without soldiers I could trust? And I couldn't trust them because  _you_  were the one they wanted!  _You_  were the one everyone loved, Mother and Father's favorite, the true heir to the throne! You left me no choice!"

Unable to shake off his astonishment, Thor said, "Loki…why…but you never said any of this. If this is true, why did you not explain?"

"'If this is true?' Of course you don't believe me," Loki hissed. "I am not a fool, Thor. I know you only mean to pry my secrets from me in the hopes of finding some weapon to use against me. You can tell the All-Father what he can do with his little bargain."

"Loki, please," Thor pleaded, leaning in. "Please. I'm trying to help you. I…I have to know what happened. Tell me, and I will help you get your vengeance, Brother. I swear it. But I must know what happened. You say there is blood on my hands," he added softly. "The blood of the woman you loved and the child you cared for." There was an almost imperceptible flinch from Loki. "I must know how it went, Loki. You must tell me."

For a long moment, Thor didn't know if Loki had even heard him. He didn't react to Thor's words, didn't so much as bat an eye. But then the emerald eyes focused on the crown prince's face. A savage, mad hatred flared to life in the depths of Loki's gaze. Unease shivered through Thor as that icy loathing filled his brother's eyes and suffused his face, turning it into an inhuman mask.

"You must know?" Loki echoed, voice a mere breath saturated with black rage. "Oh, yes, you must know. You need to know the purity and beauty of the lives you snuffed out. You need to know the depths of your sins. Yes, Brother, I'll tell you. I'll tell you how I met Thea…and how you killed her. And when it's over, you will help me hunt Thanos and put an end to him. Then I'll give you the knife and let you cut your own throat as penance for what you have done."

Blankness descended over Loki's face, erasing hatred and its underpinnings of grief or loss or regret or manipulation. Loki moved to the table and sank down into the chair, never taking his eyes from his brother.

"When you dropped me off the edge of the Bifröst, I tumbled through the void of space, through its deathly cold and its star-spangled blackness until at last I plummeted through noxious silver-gray clouds of some poisonous miasma. At last I hit solid earth. The impact jarred my skull, shattered several bones. Only luck kept me from breaking my neck."

Thor's eyes widened, but Loki seemed not to notice.

"For what felt like an eternity I could do nothing but lie there with my body racked by the pain of my injuries," he continued tonelessly. "What your monstrous green friend did to me was nothing compared to that time. My blood soaked the sand and stones beneath my body and the moon burned white against my eyelids until I saw it always, sleeping and waking. I see it still when I close my eyes. And then  _they_  found me."

He was almost afraid to interject, but Loki fell quiet and did not speak for so long that Thor had to ask, "Thea and Sophie?"

Loki shook his head. "No. That would be too easy for you. No, I did not meet Thea for sometime after that and as for…as for Sophie…"

Though his face remained empty of expression, though his tone was as hollow as that of a dead man speaking in a dream, a terrible agony filled his eyes. For Thor, it was as if looking into his brother's gaze was like being raked with poisoned jade talons that burned like acid. It was the same agony he'd seen when Loki had wept over the illusion of a younger Sophie.

"As for Sophie," Loki somehow managed to continue, though his voice shook and his eyes gleamed as if wet. "I did not…I never…I was never allowed…never truly…"

The pale lips quivered and Loki covered his mouth with one shaking hand, looking away. Thor wondered what could possibly crack Loki's composure so. Who  _was_  Sophie, that she affected the green-eyed prince so dramatically?

At last, his younger brother spoke again, his voice somewhat steadier. "No, it was not Thea who found me, but the Chitauri. They brought me to their fortress and healed my wounds. Throughout the weeks it took for my bones to knit and my injuries to mend, the second-in-command of the Chitauri armies came to me often with an offer—a command couched in pretty words. I was to join their ranks, for they knew of my powers. They wanted the Nine Realms, and they wanted my help in conquering them. If I agreed, I would become king of my own realm, and win glory for myself and the mighty Chitauri Empire. If I refused…well, one does not refuse Thanos for long."

But Thor knew his younger brother, and knew that receiving an order like that would have been tantamount to a slap in the face to Loki. As proud as Odin had raised his foster son to be and as proud as Asgardians naturally were—as proud as Loki had always been—there was no chance the green-eyed prince had accepted such an offer, threats or no.

"So they imprisoned you."

A regal cant of the head acknowledged Thor's words. "And though I was left to die if I did not give in, though it was as if I'd been sealed away inside a death-casket and left to rot in the wet dark earth like a moldering corpse, I did not give into their demands. I refused to take part in their invasion of Asgard and Midgard."

Thor jolted. "Asgard?" He echoed sharply. "They wanted Asgard?"

Loki smirked. "Thanos, Lord of the Chitauri, fancies himself in love with Death's fairest Avatar, my brother. He slaughters trillions in an attempt to win her favor, in his mad lust to woo her. Of course the Chitauri want Asgard. Don't you understand, Brother? The Chitauri want the universe."

A chill settled in the pit of Thor's stomach. He knew the Chitauri hadn't been killed during their invasion of Midgard, merely thwarted. He knew they could return at any time…or turn their sights somewhere else, like the realm of Asgard. The All-Father would have to be told; Heimdall would have to be enlisted to spy upon the battle-crazed invaders, to monitor their movements should they choose to aim for the home of the Æsir. If it came to war, Asgard would—

"They locked me away in the darkness," Loki whispered. Thor's attention snapped back to his brother, who stared unblinking and unseeing into the hearth fire. His throat worked convulsively for a moment. Then he said, almost as if he were speaking to himself, "The darkness has eyes and teeth, claws to rake and fangs to bite. It presses against your eyes until there is only blackness slithering into your skull to devour your mind. Silence deafens, darkness blinds. Hunger gnaws and thirst burns. They gave me just enough to keep me alive, just enough to keep the pain sharp in my throat and in my belly. I thought I would go mad in the dark. I thought I would shatter under the silence. And then…"

Those sightless eyes suddenly focused again, coming to rest on Thor's frozen countenance. Some of the hollow sickness festering in that gaze faded, to be replaced with a dull sort of agony. Somehow Thor knew just what his brother would say next.

"Then I heard her voice, muffled by the stone wall. It had been so long since I'd heard another being speak. So long. I'd lost count of the days, the weeks…the months. I heard her as she raged at the Chitauri, demanding to know who they were, what they wanted. She shouted that her mother would come after them, would make them pay if she wasn't released…and then she said something interesting. She said that she would never, ever, so long as she lived, use her powers for HYDRA."

Thor's brow furrowed. He knew of HYDRA; Coulson had explained that SHIELD, the Midgardian organization in place to protect the country known as America, had its enemies. The greatest of these was the foreign group called HYDRA. But he'd also been told that most Midgardians didn't know of these organizations…so how had Thea learned of it? Or had Loki plucked the name from the mind of the Midgardian archer known as Hawkeye?

"How did she know of them?" Thor asked, eyeing his brother. Was that the smallest quirk of a smile curving the corner of Loki's mouth? "Was she a member of SHIELD?"

Loki arched a brow. "No. She learned of them from the one you call Coulson."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say what, now? Hmmm…where could LA be going with this? Who knows? Now, remember everyone, reviews are loves! So LOVE ME! Lol, I love you guys. Hugs!


	7. Whispers in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki finally reveals how he met Thea...but is he telling the truth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the thing is, we finally get a Loki flashback! Yay! The only thing is…how much of the flashback is Loki actually telling Thor? Hmmm? That's the question, isn't it? And how much of the flashback is real? Hope you enjoy this chapter. Remember, reviews are love!
> 
> Also, I'm going to be turning Darkness into an audiobook. Message/email me for details. :)
> 
> Warning: this chapter contains mentions or instances of self-harm, blood, contention, yelling, mild torture, and parental abuse.

"She learned of them from the one you call Coulson."

The pain that stung the massive Asgardian at the sound of his fallen comrade's name pricked at Thor's temper. This had to be false. If Thea had known the son of Coul, and if Loki loved her as he seemed to, why had he murdered the Midgardian warrior? Thea and Coulson could not have been friends or even mere allies, or Loki wouldn't have killed him…unless Thea was already dead, and her death had driven Loki to it somehow. Yet Loki had said the Chitauri had murdered her to punish Loki's failure. The timing simply didn't add up. Why would Loki lie about this? This one small thing?

Unless  _Thea_  had lied to  _him_ …but Loki was an accomplished liar and manipulator, a puppeteer without equal. If Thea had manipulated Thor's little brother, wouldn't Loki have noticed?

Loki was a master at pulling the strings of others. What if this entire story was merely another of Loki's attempts to play with Thor? What if Loki had been aware, all this time, of Thor's movements, his intentions to cajole and bargain to ferret out this supposed story of the younger prince's? If Loki had known all those times his foster brother had been watching, observing in secrecy…what then?

"How did your lady know the son of Coul?" Thor asked softly, his voice a rumble like a lion's warning growl. Loki had to hear the danger in it. His eyes narrowed as he studied Thor, and that familiar scornful expression twisted the pale feature. "Why are you smiling?" The crown prince demanded.

Loki shook his head. "You don't believe me." Then he did something Thor would never have expected—he dropped his head against the back of the chair, closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and laughed. His brother stared at him. Loki laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, until he struggled to draw the next breath. Until he had to clutch his sides.

As he did, Thor saw a strange black mark on the protruding bones of Loki's sword-slim wrist, peeking from beneath the hem of his green sleeve. Golden brows drew together. Where had that mark come from? Even at a glance, Thor could see it wasn't ink. So what was it? Asgardians did not customarily tattoo their bodies. Yet another way the adopted prince was different from the rest of the kingdom, Thor thought. What could Loki have felt was so important that he would etch it into his flesh?

But he didn't ask. He only demanded, "What is so blasted funny?"

"You," Loki chuckled, then sighed as his laughter petered out. "You are funny…and despicable. Trust me, you plead. Let me help you, you implore me…yet I can see the disbelief in your face, hear it in your voice. He must be lying—that's what you're thinking, isn't it? That I must be lying, because unless Thea was Coulson's enemy, I would never have hurt him. Oh, you are a fool, Thor." Softly, as if to himself, Loki added, "And so am I."

A sudden flash of long-banked anger flared to life, a bright blaze that set Thor's sapphire eyes smoldering with fury and grief. "I am no fool. You didn't hurt him, Loki. You  _killed_  him. You murdered one of my friends, and for what? You  _murdered_  him."

One knife-thin black brow arched in sardonic inquiry. "Is that what I did?"

"You know it as well as I," Thor raged. "Don't stand there and mock my pain, my grief! How dare you? How dare you disdain a friend of mine, a comrade, when you murdered him in cold blood?"

"Murdered him?" Loki echoed, voice suddenly eerily empty. "I murdered your friend? Someone you cared for, respected? I hurt you by killing someone who mattered to you?"

Thor slowly shook his head, feeling the anger like a cool frost spreading through his veins and chilling his blood. He felt cold down to his bones. "No," the prince said slowly. "No, Brother. Blame me if you must for the deaths of Thea and the child, but you cannot equate that with—"

" _Her name was Sophie!_ " Loki yelled abruptly, startling the nearby guards. They shifted back into tense attention with soft clinks from their armor. Eyes blazing that strange cerulean, the Frost Giant roared, "You  _know_  her name! Damn you, Thor Odinson, for speaking of her that way. Your o—" Loki cut himself off, gritting his teeth as if to bite back the words. A shudder rippled through him and he sucked in a sharp breath that whistled through his teeth. "You accuse me of so much without proof, Brother…but then, you always have. I don't know why I'm surprised."

Blue eyes widened. Something pulsed hotly in Thor's chest, a molten hand clutching at his heart and squeezing until he thought he might choke on the tight pain in his breast and surging up into his throat.

"Without proof?" Thor repeated. His voice was just as empty as Loki's had been, but where Loki's had been like a thin veneer of ice across whatever half-mad thoughts and emotions festered in his brain, Thor's hollow voice was a vessel waiting to fill with his infamous, thunderous rage. "Without  _proof?_  Perhaps Sif and the Three are right. Perhaps you are mad. I  _saw_  you, Loki. Surtur's blade, you stabbed Coulson in the back like a coward right in front of me."

His brother scoffed and turned to stare into the dying fire. "Believe what you will. You always have."

The breath strangled in Thor's throat for a long moment. "I am  _trying_  to understand, Loki. I am  _trying_. I promised to listen, to believe. I am keeping that promise so far as I am able. Will you not tell me the truth?"

_I saw you kill him_ , Thor wanted to rage.  _I saw you murder my friend when he tried to stop you from killing me. Me! Your brother! I saw you, Loki! How could you do it?_  But he didn't ask. He couldn't let his fury and grief rule him now. Not when he'd finally gotten Loki saying something—truth or not—that might help the crown prince understand what madness or evil festered in his brother's mind.

Glacial emerald eyes pinned the crown prince like a needle through a dying insect. The breath wheezed out of Thor's lungs beneath the force of that icy gaze. "I'm giving you the truth,  _Brother_. What's wrong? Can't stomach it? Can't believe I would 'murder,' as you put it, someone who stood in the way of doing what needed to be done in order to protect what truly mattered?"

And what was that? Thea and Sophie? Had Thor been right, then, that the Chitauri had used the two Midgardians against Loki? Forcing him to invade Midgard?

Yet Thor said none of this, either. He was learning to be as reticent as Loki, it seemed. Instead, he folded his arms across his broad chest. "Very well, then—the truth, is it? Then how did Thea know Coulson? Was she a member of SHIELD?" If Thea was a SHIELD agent, why would Loki attack them? Why not go to the Midgardian warriors' guild for help in rescuing the woman and Sophie?

"No," Loki replied, once more looking away. "She was not a warrior."

"Then  _how?_ "

A heavy sigh from the prince within his ensorcelled prison. "Don't you ever  _listen?_ "

"I  _am_  listening," Thor snapped. "Explain it to me."

"Did you ever listen to your fallen comrade?" Loki said, ignoring Thor's demand. "Did you ever listen to  _him?_  Because he spoke of her. Both to you, and to the Midgardian in the flying armor. They spoke of her in front of you—her and one other."

Bewilderment consuming his anger, Thor shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

A fleeting shadow of a smile curved Loki's mouth. Some of the ice in the green eyes thawed. "Well, that's nothing new, Brother." Thor was gifted with a look of exasperated indulgence. The last time he'd seen that expression on his brother's face, it had been the morning of the aborted coronation, before Odin had sensed the Frost Giants…the Frost Giants that Loki had led into the king's treasure room. An act of treason that his brother  _still_  had not explained to him.

"Coulson never spoke of her," Thor insisted, hiding his rising suspicion. Why did Loki have to be so cryptic? It was a game he'd always played, ever since they were children; he'd cultivated an air of superiority and mystique about him, held himself aloof from other Asgardian children at court. Thor and his other brothers had been Loki's only true friends…and, once upon a time, Sif and the Three. But no longer. His comrades and his brothers would never trust Loki again, after what he'd done. Could Thor ever trust Loki, either? "And anyway, how would you even know if he had?"

The indulgence turned just a shade condescending as the other prince replied, "Think about whom you're speaking to, and you'll realize that is a stupid question."

_Forgive me, O Cryptic One_ , Thor thought with no little acidity. But he swallowed that acerbity back and said only, "I do not recall Coulson ever mentioning her, Loki. Who was she to him?"  _Who was she to you? And Sophie, who was she? What happened to you, my brother?_  He desperately wanted to ask, but knew better than to attempt it just yet.

Loki licked his lips. Thor saw they were cracked and dry, bleeding in places. Tiny jewel-drops of blood stood out against the pale lips. The tip of his brother's tongue swept them away, but the crimson blood welled up again seconds later. Blood and Loki paired together seemed to be a common sight these days. When the green-eyed prince steepled his fingers, Thor noticed that the knuckles of  _both_ hands were scraped raw and bloody, and blue and violet shadows mottled his fingers, as if he'd rammed his fist into something that refused to yield to his strength.

"If you can't figure it out for yourself like an intelligent man—"

" _Loki_ —"

"Then," his little brother said over the fresh growls, "I will have to reveal the secret to you…in due time. For now, leave it be. You will know soon enough who Thea is." A shadow of anguish passed over Loki's pale face. His brows drew together and his eyes darkened. "Who she  _was_."

Long moments of silence passed, but Thor said nothing. He was weary of the ongoing game between himself and his little brother. Why did Loki have to play with him this way? Was this some sort of test, to see if Thor was worthy of hearing this tragic story that Loki claimed had driven him to murder and the invasion of Midgard?

An odd prickling sensation at the nape of his neck slowed his thoughts. A test? Yes, he realized. It was a test. Whether to test Thor's willingness to reach out to his brother, or Thor's gullibility, the crown prince had no idea. But it  _was_  a test, and that helped his anger cool. A test was a challenge. He was Crown Prince Thor of Asgard, the Thunderer, the heir to the throne, as well as the son of Odin. He could handle—and conquer—Loki's challenge.

"She kept raging," Loki murmured at last.

Thor's focus narrowed to his brother's drawn face, the bruised-looking circles beneath his eyes, the ice-blue veins beneath the paleness of his skin. When Loki began to speak again, Thor realized his brother actually looked a bit…fragile. Fragile and wounded, in a way he hadn't even after Banner had beaten him to jelly against the floor of the Iron Man's towering stronghold.

"She wouldn't stop. I was surprised the Chitauri guards didn't come back to beat her unconscious, she kept at it for so long. I learned later on that she could be quite stubborn…"

.

_The girl, the new prisoner, was still screeching at her long-absent captors. It would have been comical, actually, but it had been so long since Loki had heard another voice…so long. So he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the dry, crumbling stone wall of his prison cell and simply allowed the sound of the other prisoner's demands to wash over him, driving back the maddening silence._

_"Let me out! I'm serious, my mother will rip you bozos apart! She's got connections! My professor's going to find me! There's nowhere you can take me where he can't find me! And when he finds me, you goons are going to wish you were dead! Let me out! Now! And take off this stupid collar! I will blow this place to smithereens, you hear me? Smithereens! And my mom's dating a mobster; he'll kill you if you don't let me go right now!"_

_There was a soft_  thump,  _like a body hitting stone, and then a steady percussion of something hard against the wall next to his head. Muffled shrieks of outrage came through the wall. Then there was silence._

_No. Not silence. There couldn't be silence. Not more silence, empty and hollow except for the arrhythmic beating of his heart in the cage of his ribs and the harsh animal panting of his breath in the darkness. There had been days, weeks, months of silence. Eons of silence. There could be no more, or he would go mad._

_"Who's there?" Loki croaked, his voice hoarse with disuse. After those first weeks, when he'd screamed for freedom like the girl on the other side of the wall and torn his throat to bloody shreds that could produce nothing more than a raspy wheeze, he'd stopped speaking. It was almost as if he'd forgotten how. Now he dredged up words from the depths of his memory and whispered, "Who's there?"_

_No sound emerged from the ever-thickening silence. Had the girl fallen asleep? So quickly? Had she been attacked by something in the cell and knocked unconscious? Been killed? Or—sick, twisting, gut-wrenching thought—had he imagined her, desperate as he was for some form of contact with something, anything, so long as he was no longer trapped in this empty cell with no one but ghosts and darkness?_

_Water, he thought. He needed water, something to wet his throat. His tongue was thick and desiccated in his mouth, a lump of cracked and dried leather useless for anything. His throat was filled with sand. If he had water, perhaps he could find the volume needed to prove the girl was real. There_  was  _someone on the other side of his prison wall. There_  was.  _He'd heard her. If she was a figment of his crazed desperation, she wouldn't have used a word like "bozos." A Midgardian word. His figment wouldn't be Midgardian._

_There was no water. Loki remembered this as his good hand fumbled in the dark, through dirt and bits of broken stone. A metal splinter shoved deep into the pad of his thumb. That first shock of sharp pain ripped a rasping oath from his dry lips. Wetness welled up and spilled from the wound down over the dirty flesh of his thumb and across his palm. Without thinking, he brought his hand to his mouth before the precious fluid could drip onto the floor and be lost._

_It was gritty with the dirt on his hands, salty, with a strong essence of rust…but it was wet, and the heavy drop spread across his tongue, easing the painful dryness there. In his greed for that wetness, his chapped lips split. More blood welled. He drank it up eagerly, feeling a freshness in his mouth he hadn't felt in over a moon._

_Blood wouldn't do the trick for long, Loki knew, but it would give him enough time to catch the attention of the prisoner in the next cell. He took a moment to pull the long splinter out of his thumb with his teeth; the metal spike slid from his flesh with a scraping sound audible to his sense-deprived ears._

_He slammed his palm against the stone wall with a meaty smack and demanded, "Who's there?"_

_From the other side of the stone came the blessed sound of a shocked and very feminine squeak. Rustling, like leaves or cloth, and then he heard that same voice as before—not yelling now, and not quite so full of false bravado. "Hello?"_

_"Who's there?" Loki repeated, feeling the strain in his throat from the effort. Long lines of stinging heat crept from his mouth down his throat toward his chest. "Who are you?" The prince briefly considered that the Midgardian girl might be frightened. Of course she would be. Only an imbecile wouldn't fear being locked in a dank, dark pit and left to rot. "What's your name?"_

_Another long silence, one that pressed on Loki, threatened to swell his head with the roaring deafening absence of sound until his eardrums burst. Then the girl murmured, her light voice splintering the too-quiet dark, "Thea."_

_He didn't know what made him do it—she had no need to know, not really; he could have told her anything he wished…he could have given her his elder brother's name, not his own—but he said in his failing voice, "I'm Loki."_

_"Are you a prisoner too?" Compassion. It surged up into those five simple words like water from a spring, drowning out whatever anger and panic had been in the girl's voice before. Shared suffering; it could make heroes of anyone, under the right circumstances._

_She was focused solely on him, because she didn't want to be alone, either. Alone in the ever-thickening darkness, the hollow void. She was latching onto him. He wanted to caution her not to, because it should have been degrading, disgusting—she was Midgardian, while Loki was a prince of Asgard—but in a distant part of his mind, he knew there was no point. In darkness, there was that small beacon of light—a fellow sufferer. Misery loved company._

_The lines of heat creeping down his throat didn't sting anymore; they smoldered, red as metal first stabbed into the coals of a forge and left to heat and soften. Still Loki said, "Yes."_

_"Where are we?" Thea asked. Her voice kept the silence away. It was Midgardian, but it shoved back the deafening silence. She had to keep speaking. He couldn't bear one more month of soundlessness, couldn't bear another week of nothing but his heartbeat and rasping breath. "Who are these people?"_

_To tell her would frighten her. She might stop speaking, too afraid to make a sound. Midgardians were cowards, after all, and little better than animals when it came to submitting to their baser instincts. An animal startled by a predator would either fly—which she could not do—or hunker down and attempt to wait out the hunter. Yet he could hear the strain in her voice, even through the cold, dry stone. The same strain he'd felt creeping in on him in those first hours and days and weeks in his tiny cell._

_"They are called the Chitauri. We are in one of their dungeons."_

_"I'm in a dungeon?" She repeated incredulously. Then the girl did an unlikely thing—she snorted. Loki could just hear it through the wall. "Well. Okay, then. Gives a whole new meaning to the song, 'I'm a little princess, short and pissed. Here's my foot up your butt and here is my fist…' Chitauri. Who the heck are the Chitauri?"_

_She seemed to be speaking to herself rather than to him. He didn't care, so long as she kept speaking. Her voice held a strange accent—clipped and hard consonants, carefully-formed vowels. A singer's diction. Loki tried to memorize her voice, because the Chitauri might have put her here to give him a taste of contact, a thin and flimsy shield against the lonely dark, only to take her away again in the hopes of shattering his resolve. He licked his lips. Tasted blood. He would not submit. He would never succumb. Nothing they did could make him._

_"Are they aliens?" The girl asked. The question startled him. What did Midgardians know of life from other worlds? But the girl appeared to be serious. She_  sounded _serious, at any rate. "Like the Shi'ar?"_

_Loki frowned. The grit on the wall ground into his cheek as he pressed himself closer. The stone was ice cold, chilling his flesh. "You know about the Shi'ar?"_

_"I learned about them in school," was the startling answer. Her voice sounded closer, but wavered as if it were moving. It came stronger as she drew nearer to where his head rested against his side of the wall. "So, what do these Chitauri want? What are they doing with us?"_

_Us, he thought. Already, in her mind, they were "us." Two parts of a whole, simply by virtue of their common enemy, and the joint torment of their imprisonment. And she wasn't breaking down, crumbling to pieces under the weight of her fear. How long would that last? How long before she realized her mother, with all her supposed connections, and her all-powerful professor would never be able to find her, here on this world of darkness and cloying fog and moonlight?_

_"They want to use us," he said, because he had no other answer—he was too weary, too thirsty, the pain in his belly like some ravenous beast, his strength fading as the taste of blood soured in his mouth—and to keep silent would encourage her to do the same, and that couldn't happen. He'd been alone in the alien womb of the dark, waiting to be ground up and absorbed into the shadows and the stones. He couldn't be that way again._

_"Yeah, that's not happening," the girl muttered. Loki realized that he, too, had said "us." As if they were a unit. As if they were comrades against the Chitauri, against their captivity. As if the girl had something the Chitauri wanted. But she must have had something, or why bring her here? Why not simply snap her neck back on Midgard and leave her corpse for the worms?_

_"How did they get you?" Loki asked._

_"Family camping trip," Thea replied dismissively, as if the very idea of encamping in the woods to spend time with loved ones was a waste of time. Yet he heard the slight hitch in her voice when she spoke the word "family."_

_All at once, the image of eyes the color of strong ale and hair like thickened honeyed mead came into Loki's mind, stealing like a thieving shadow into the confines of his skull, lodging like a poison-tipped arrow in his heart. A single blue eye replaced the brief flash of Frigga's face; a blue eye stern with kingship, but bright with a father's love. He saw four men wrestling together like overgrown boys, laughing and tossing out petty insults to goad the others._

Mother,  _Loki thought before he could censor the word._  Father. My brothers…Thor, where are you now? Have you given me up for dead? Thor, I should never have let go. I should have held onto you, to Father. To my home. Forgive me, Mother. Forgive me, Thor.

_"How did they get you? How long have you been here?" Thea asked then, her voice hesitant. No, there could be no hesitation. He needed the sound of her voice to fill the dark. He would have to answer her._

_"They captured me in…" He had to think. What was the Midgardian term? "In April," he concluded. How many months had passed since then? How much of his life was gone now?_

" _April?" Thea's voice was sharp with horror, almost sharp enough to cut. "But…but it's October."_

_At least six months, then. He'd been in prison for at least six months. "They came upon me when I was wounded," Loki replied, feeling the flesh inside his throat gasping for moisture. He sucked a few drops of blood from his lips to wet his parched throat, a feeble and fleeting reprieve._

_There was a sharp gasp from the other side of the wall. It echoed in the dark cell. "You're hurt? I know some first-aid, maybe I can help. Walk you through what to do. How badly are you hurt?" Desperation edged her voice, sharp as a knife blade. Panic. If he was hurt, he could be dying. That was what she feared; Loki knew. If he died, she would be alone in the dark. Of course she would seek to aid him, to prevent the loss of her only companionship._

_"I've healed," he said tonelessly, as if it mattered not at all. In truth, he hadn't healed yet. His ribs were still mending from his last torture session with the Chitauri; his broken arm still hung in a sling. Dull pain throbbed through his right knee; something had ripped there when he'd fallen from space to hurtle to the black sands of a Chitauri beach. "Are you hurt?"_

_"No," the girl replied sourly. Was that chagrin he heard? "Just a concussion."_

_Just. False bravado again. Or perhaps the girl was merely stupid. Did it matter? Sound was sound. And if she succumbed to her injury, fell unconscious, there would be no more sound. She could die._

_Something about the thought of a corpse moldering in the room next to his filled Loki with a twisting, knotting, clawing iciness in his belly that threatened to gut him. Thinking of death and decay so close, unable to escape it, as it stretched out fingers of cloying stench and rot and filth made bile burn in the back of his throat._

_"Have you any pain? Dizziness? Nausea?" Loki demanded, remembering the field medicine he'd been taught by Eir, Asgard's mistress of healers. Any of those symptoms could lead to something worse than a mere concussion._

_"I'm okay," she replied. Loki wondered if she were lying. "It knocked me out for a couple minutes, that's all. I had a headache when I woke up but that was hours ago. I should be okay. Are you…are you a doctor?"_

_Doctor, he thought. The Midgardian word for a healer. "No. Are you?"_

_A soft laugh. How odd, Loki thought distantly. How could she laugh? Was she laughing at him? Or was she so stupid that she didn't realize the direness of the situation? Wasn't she afraid? Didn't she realize…there would be no help coming. Not for either of them. They would die in this place, or surrender to the Chitauri. There were no other options._

_"No," Thea said. "I'm a professional tutor. What about you?"_

I was a prince,  _he wanted to say_. I was a son, a brother. My father was the king of my country. My brother would have been king after him. My mother is the most beautiful woman in Asgard, and the wisest. I am…I am their bargaining chip.  _The thought oozed into his brain like noxious poison and would not be dispelled_. They stole me from where the father of my blood left me to die, and sought to use me as their tool in games politick. I am nothing but another stolen relic.

_"I'm a soldier," Loki replied, because he was too tired to think of anything else that would explain what knowledge might emerge during a later conversation—his understanding of military strategy, combat, politics, war. He was losing his edge in this place, he decided. The utter nothingness was wearing down his honed edge, dulling the sharpness of his mind. How long before he lost that edge completely?_

_Thea sighed. "A soldier, huh? Cool." She sighed again. "I don't believe this. Phil's going to kill me."_

_The name scraped a little at Loki's interest. "Who is Phil?"_

_His voice would give out soon, he thought. He could feel it. The strain and tremble in his vocal chords, the harsh rasping in his throat…he didn't have much time left. He needed water. When would the Chitauri bring him more? He couldn't keep track of time in this place. Without the sun, the moon, the stars…without even a window or a crack in the wall leading to the outside world…_

_"Friend of the family's," the girl said after a moment's hesitation. "He's been teaching me self-defense, how to escape an attacker, blah-blah. He told me not to rely on my powers. I should've listened to him. I'm such an idiot." Before Loki could latch onto the word "powers," the Midgardian added, "And now I'm wearing this stupid inhibitor collar. Ugh. It's cold, too. So I can't use my powers at all. At least they didn't take my backpack and my dufflebag. I wonder why not."_

_"Your packs? What's in them?"_

_More rustling, and a harsh metallic_  zzzzzz  _sound. He heard a small grunt of effort. "Not much. My cell phone, a box of matches, my compass, my little mini-flashlights…and my mom's manicure case, apparently. Oookay. Um, a crud-ton of energy bars, and like, seven water bottles. Let me see what else…"_

_Loki's heart slammed against his ribs hard enough to bruise. He felt hollow, sick. Dizziness washed over him, threatening to drown him in the raging tide of his blood roaring in his ears. She had water? His fingers pressed against the stone wall until his nails scratched and dug into the mortar. Water? He swallowed convulsively and nearly choked on the dryness of his throat. Water…_

_"Hey, wait." Thea's voice sounded very close now. Right beneath Loki's chin, in fact, but still muffled by the wall. "I just thought of something. Hang on a second. Can you see this?"_

_A flash of blinding, silver-blue-white light exploded out of the wall, searing Loki's eyes. Pain shot from his eyes through his skull, fragmenting the bone and shattering the world around him. He clapped his less-damaged hand to his face and wheezed in pain. He could hear Thea speaking to him, but he couldn't make out her words beyond the pain, the rushing in his ears, and the after-images from the sudden eruption of light._

_At last the spots dancing across his vision cleared. The pain gradually began to fade. He could just make out the violent sunburst that had blinded him—now a tiny, flickering white light that seemed to illuminate the entire miniscule room. The silvery glow came from a crack in the wall._

_A crack…_

_"Can you see that?"_

_"Yes," Loki croaked, mind reeling. So many possibilities, so many implications, he couldn't grasp them all. If there was a crack in the wall, there was light, there was more than just darkness and a voice, there was more than this cell. There was a world beyond it. There was something outside of this eldritch prison. "I see it."_

_"What's wrong with your voice?" Thea asked suddenly. "You went all croaky." Loki tried to work up enough saliva to speak, but found he couldn't. He couldn't even focus long enough to form the words. All he could think of was the nearness of the water, the tiny unsteady glow through the crack in the wall. The girl said, "Do you need water?" He made a sound that would have been yes if he'd had the strength to speak. "Um…here, hang on."_

Zzzzzz. Snap! Clink-clatter-chrk. Scritch-scritch-scritch. Snap! Chunk. Chink-chunk-chunk. Chunk-chink. Chink-chink-chunk-chink. Chank!

_There was a tiny puff of dust that caught and reflected the soft light, and the pale light increased a fraction. From the other side of the wall, Thea yelped and muttered an oath no lady in Asgard would know (except perhaps Sif), then went back to whatever she was doing. It sounded like…hammering. Loki heard her mumble, "Sorry, Mom," a couple times before the hammering finally stopped. Her voice drifted through the crack, stronger and clearer now. "Put your mouth against the crack. I'm gonna try something."_

_Desperation could make animals of men. It could make murderers of heroes. It could make heroes of untried Midgardian maidens. Loki did as she said, too wickedly thirsty to care what it might look like, what it would be like. He could only think of water, filling his mouth with cool wetness, running down his throat to heal the burning there._

_He tasted dust and cold stone. Sharp bits of mortar landed on his tongue. Then a short, sharp burst of something tepid shot into his mouth. It was lukewarm, almost unpleasantly warm. It had the tang of chemicals to it; Midgardian stuff. It carried silt from the somewhat wider crack in the prison wall._

_It was delicious. Wet. The water filled his mouth, seeping into the dried-out cracks in his tongue. He swallowed the precious mouthful, felt it run down his throat like nectar. There was a pause, and he made a sound. Thea squirted another mouthful of water at him. The silence, once filled with her voice, was now filled with the wet sounds of Loki swallowing thirstily, gasping for breath between drinks._

_She was patient. She was careful not to waste it, and careful to make sure he didn't drink too much too quickly._

_She was a goddess._

_When his throat no longer burned, when he was no longer desperate enough to lick up the moisture from the stone wall, he sighed and leaned back against the other wall. "Thank you," he mumbled, though the words were paltry. There were no words adequate to describe how he felt in that moment. This girl was mercy's avatar. "Thank you."_

_"You okay?" She asked. Her question was followed by several more_  chunk-chink  _sounds as the hammering picked up again. "You got enough?" Loki mumbled an affirmative. He didn't care anymore if she was Midgardian. If she was stupid. If she was beneath him. She'd given him water. Blessed, crystal-sweet water. "Hang on, I think I've got…" There was a loud_  ka-chunk,  _followed by a hard_ click-clack-thud,  _and two pieces of stone—one about the size of a large marble, and the other the height of a tapestry needle and as wide as two of Loki's fingers—fell onto Loki's thigh. "Ha!"_

_Loki shifted as soft light—softer than before—emanated from the wall in an irregular shape about the height of his little finger and little wider than an Asgardian gold coin. He peered through the hole._

_On the other side was a dirt-smudged face, blood crusting down one cheek. The hair was dark, that was all Loki could see in the dim light, and plastered to the girl's cheeks and temples with sweat and blood. A streak of gray grime smudged her nose, which might have had freckles beneath all that dirt. Eyes the blue-gray color of the sea after a storm reflected the light from what looked like a miniscule handheld torch about an inch and a half long, held between two fingers. The face grinned, revealing the only part of it not covered in some form of grit or muck._

_"Hi, there," Thea said brightly._

.

"She put a crack in the wall?" Thor asked incredulously.

Loki eyed him with mild disgust and sighed. "The crack was already there, you buffoon," the green-eyed prince muttered. A small smile tugged at the corner of Loki's mouth. "There were several, in fact. Her kicking them had helped loosen some of the chunks of stone. She simply widened the cracks out a little." Then a shadow passed over Loki's face. The little smile slipped away. "We didn't understand then why they hadn't taken her packs from her. We understood eventually…but by then, it was far too late."

Thor frowned. "Why did they let her keep them, then?" He felt as if Loki were still speaking in riddles. How much of what Loki had told him was true? And was his brother hiding anything, keeping anything back?

Jade eyes closed wearily. A heaviness seemed to settle over the fostered prince. Loki shook his head slowly, so that his raven hair fell across his brow. Thor could not get over how pale his brother seemed.

"They let her keep the packs because they knew she would put that crack in the wall."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...what do you guys think? How am I doing so far? Hugs for everyone! And for all you guys just about to start school again after winter break, good luck!


	8. A Thousand Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an effort to help Thor, Lady Sif steals something precious from Loki, without understanding how dire the consequences might be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder! I'm going to be turning Darkness into an audiobook. It will be downloadable fto any device that can play MP3 files. Message me for details Because that takes time (I have to create the music, actually get a good reading of each chapter recorded, etc), I'll be posting 1 chapter every 2-4 weeks. And if I can get someone to do the voice, I may be able to finagle someone doing audio recordings of Loki & Thea's letters…gotta talk to a guy, first.
> 
> Warning: this chapter contains mentions or instances of blood, self-harm, mental breakdowns, mental illness, bullying, intense rage, and pregnancy.

_They let her keep the packs because they knew she would put that crack in the wall_.

Thor strode aimlessly through the castle corridors more than five evenings after his last conversation with Loki. He had nowhere he needed to be and much he needed to think about.

Loki had withdrawn after those final words. Something had seemed to crumble within him, and he'd bowed his head and said nothing more, no matter how Thor cajoled. Sensing his brother was at the end of his endurance for one day, the crown prince had retreated from the dungeons, leaving his brother to—what? Grieve for the girl on the other side of the wall? Plot his story further in order to hoodwink everyone? Thor didn't know. He needed to think. And every time he'd gone back since, Loki hadn't seemed to move at all, prompting Thor to yet leave him be.

Sometime during his constant pacing of the palace halls, a light footstep began to echo his. A slim shadow hovered beside and little ways behind him—a quiet and comforting presence.

"Hello, Sif."

The only shield-maiden in Asgard drew abreast of him when he acknowledged her presence. They'd been friends for a long time. She was the only woman he'd ever gone into battle with, the only woman he trusted to guard his back in a fight. Sif was his best friend, as Loki was…or had been.

"You have seen Loki," Sif said softly. Her dark hair was pulled severely back, giving her a harsher look than she normally possessed. Like his father's weathered face and his mother's somber clothes, Loki's betrayal had produced a marked difference in Sif, as well.

For the first time, Thor considered what Loki had said of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, that they'd betrayed him. That his inability to rely even on his closest friends had driven him to take such drastic actions while the king had been in the Odinsleep.

 _But then I learned I couldn't trust any of the courtiers here, couldn't trust Heimdall or Sif or the Three. My so-called_  friends.  _How was I to win a war, if it came to that, without soldiers I could trust? And I couldn't trust them because_  you  _were the one they wanted!_

For the first time, the prince wondered why Sif and the Three had gone against Odin's decree of exile, gone against Loki's order—the order of their ruling sovereign—and come to Midgard to bring Thor home. Had they known of Loki's part to lure the Frost Giants into the Treasure Room the day of Thor's coronation? None of them had said anything about that. Then why bring him back? Not because of the Destroyer; it had arrived after them. Not for what Loki had done to Heimdall, either—that had come after the Gatekeeper had allowed the four friends through the Bifröst.

Sif was waiting for an answer.

"I have seen Loki," Thor acknowledged without breaking stride. "We have struck a bargain, he and I. He will answer my questions if I help him convince the All-Father to release him."

The warrior maiden halted in her tracks. Thor paused. Somehow he knew what she would say even before she spoke.

"Convince the All-Father to release him? Thor, you cannot trust Loki! What madness would possess you to set him loose?"

Sif, Thor thought, was his dearest friend outside of his brothers. He could trust her to keep what he would tell her to herself, and trust her not to rush off to Loki to demand he stop spilling poisonous lies in the crown prince's ear.

"If my father releases him, I have promised him help in killing the leader of the Chitauri." He started walking again.

"Why would he want to kill Thanos? Loki is loyal to him."

Thor shook his head. "I do not believe so, Sif. Loki and I have been talking about the Chitauri, about Thanos, about why Loki did all that he did."

Sif waited. Thor knew she wanted him to simply explain to her what Loki had said…but he needed to couch his words carefully. For instance, he could not share with anyone—save perhaps Frigga and maybe Balder—about the illusion of young Sophie, and how Loki had tried to make her younger. He couldn't give away the knowledge that his younger brother had loved this Midgardian child enough to weep for her. But there were some things he could say, if he were careful.

"And?" Sif demanded at last.

"Thanos murdered someone Loki held dear," Thor murmured after a moment's hesitation. "Loki's thirst for vengeance makes bargaining with him a bit simpler."

Dark eyes studied Thor for a long moment; the Asgardian could feel the weight of Sif's stare like the heaviness of his battle-armor. At last, she nodded. "It is just like him to focus on getting back at someone to the extent of all else…but who was this person? His woman?"

" _A_  woman," Thor acknowledged softly.

"The woman in the drawings?" Sif hazarded.

He wasn't surprised she knew of it; she'd always been shrewd. He nodded. A large part of him itched to catch a viable glimpse of one of Loki's drawings, to be able to see Thea's face with his own eyes. He told Sif this now.

"The woman in the drawings…" The shield-maiden shook her head. "How do you know this isn't some elaborate trap of his to lure you in?"

He shrugged. "I don't, but I  _feel_  he is being truthful."

"Has he explained why he murdered your Midgardian friend?"

"No," Thor replied after a long moment where he wrestled with anger and the echoes of disbelief. It still astonished him that his brother had tried to kill him, had  _succeeded_  in killing one of Thor's allies. And Loki hadn't even admitted to the fact. Why wouldn't he admit to it? He made no excuse, either, such as with the Destroyer. Loki refused to do anything but mock and attempt to redirect when Coulson was mentioned.

Yet he'd said Thea's connection with the son of Coul would be made clear…and Thea  _had_ mentioned a man named Phil who would be angry about her capture, a friend of her family. Was  _that_ the connection? That didn't explain Loki's evasion when Coulson was brought up whenever Thor demanded an explanation. There was something there, something more. What was it? Yet another of the mysteries Loki needed to explain.

"Has he explained why he took over Asgard?" Sif persisted.

"Mother made him king," Thor said tonelessly. Seeing Sif's stunned expression, Thor canted his head. "I asked her about it a couple nights ago. No one else could take the throne during Father's Odinsleep. The queen made him king-regent during my exile."

"Then…" Sif looked faintly uneasy. "Then it was according to the law." She frowned. "He must have known somehow when he arranged your exile that she would make him king."

Now it was Thor's turn to frown. "Arranged my exile? What are you talking about?"

"Thor," Sif said as if speaking to a particularly dull child. "Think about it. He arranges for the interruption of your coronation, knowing it will anger you. He knows the king will not do what you wish—"

"Because it was foolish," Thor retorted. "It could have sparked a war. Father was right not to attack Jötunheim just because—"

"And then Loki tells you to go to Jötunheim, even though the king has expressly forbidden it, knowing your temper and their barbarism and arrogance would provoke you, knowing the king would punish you for what you'd done in a fit of temper egged on by none other than your so-called brother." Sif shook her head, as if dismayed by his thick-headedness. "He set you up. Don't you see that?"

 _I learned I couldn't trust any of the courtiers here, couldn't trust Heimdall or Sif or the Three. My so-called_  friends… _couldn't trust them because_  you  _were the one they wanted_! You  _were the one everyone loved_ …And before that, what had his brother said?  _I_  told  _you to leave the Frost Giants alone. I_  told  _you not to go to Jötunheim, I_ told  _you to let it go when the Frost Giant lord tried to pick a fight with you, but you—wouldn't—listen._

The thing was, Loki  _had_  told him all those things…yet Sif suspected him of arranging matters. Did the Three suspect the same? Was that why they'd gone to Midgard to bring Thor back?

Had Loki told him all of that, knowing how Thor would react, in order to bring about the outcome he'd wanted?

 _Thor, stop and think,_  Loki had cautioned when he'd wanted to launch his fist—or his hammer—straight into the disdainful Frost Giant's blue face.

 _Know your place, Brother!_  The crown prince had snapped. He'd seen the moment of hurt on Loki's face, a fleeting break in the mask of courtly politeness and carefully-veiled urgency.

In the Gatehouse of the Bifröst, Thor remembered suddenly, Loki had yelled,  _I never wanted the throne! I only wanted to be your equal!_

That was the thing about not only being brothers, but being as close as they had once been, Thor thought. After all, Frigga had revealed that Loki had come to Asgard as a newborn babe—barely a few hours old—the very night Thor had been born. The question of who was older had been a matter of perhaps an hour, if that, so Healing Mistress Eir had told the king and queen; Eir, the only person besides Odin and Frigga (and of course Heimdall) who'd always known Loki was not the son of Odin. Everyone else had thought Loki not only Thor's brother, but his twin—born on the same night in the hour after Thor, small and dark-haired against Thor's golden looks and blue eyes; the shadow to the golden prince.

He hadn't wanted to be Thor's shadow anymore. Because he'd tasted the power of kingship? Because he'd discovered he and Thor weren't two sides of a coin, two halves a whole? Or because of something else?

"Thor?" Sif ventured after he'd been silent for some time.

The crown prince shook the troubling thoughts away and focused on his friend and offered her a smile.

"I've always valued your friendship, Sif. It's good to know you're watching out for me," he said, because that was all he really  _could_  say. He didn't know whether to deny her allegations or not. He simply didn't have enough information. Thor had learned, after everything that had followed his exile, never to make assumptions…especially where his little brother was concerned. "I must ready for dinner. I'll see you there."

"Of course," the shield-maiden replied hesitantly. "I will see you later, then."

Thor headed for his rooms, still keenly aware of the weight of Sif's gaze on his back. Just before he turned the corner, he decided that it was better to be safe than sorry, so he turned back.

"And Sif? Do not speak of this to anyone, please. That includes Loki."

She offered him a short bow; her silent way of communicating her displeasure, but also her promise to obey. "As you wish."

 _No_ , he thought as he strode away.  _Not as I wish. If things were as I wished, my brother would not be in prison, half-mad with rage and grief, after murdering my friend, trying to kill me, launching an invasion on a realm I've sworn to protect, trying to decimate Jötunheim, and working behind my back to do…whatever he was trying to do_.

But Thor said none of this aloud.

.

Lady Sif was not a sorceress by any means, but she had a little  _seiðr_  of her own. Just enough to get her hands on something she—and Thor—desperately wanted. The only trick would be keeping Odin's foster son from discovering her presence.

Feet silent as the velvet paws of a cat, Sif crept down the dungeon corridor toward Loki's cell. Subterfuge was not her first choice when confronting an enemy; she preferred a face-to-face attack. In this instance, her fist in the traitor's pasty face. He deserved worse, the shield-maiden thought, for what Loki had done to his family. To the queen, especially, and to Thor. The crown prince had been devastated by Loki's loss, and then to find out he'd turned traitor and was planning on making war on Midgard…

Thor had been different upon his return from Midgard when he'd gone to retrieve the treacherous prince. Only later had the court learned that Prince Loki had murdered a friend of Prince Thor's in cold blood, stabbing him in the back like a coward when the mortal attempted to prevent Loki from killing  _Thor_.

Sif didn't know why the idea of Loki attempting to kill his foster brother surprised everyone. He'd done it before, after all. Did no one remember Loki's treachery? Usurping the throne while Thor was banished? Yes, Frigga had made him king while Odin slept, but the slimy little rat had known she would. What about sending the Destroyer to butcher the golden-haired prince? Could no one else see Loki's jealousy, his hatred for Thor because Thor was crown prince and Loki was not?

But it seemed no one had until Loki's attempted coup…no one but Asgard's lone shield-maiden, friend to both princes, and one who was unquestioningly loyal to the heir to the throne.

Sif paused at the bend in the corridor just out of Loki's line of sight, and peered cautiously around the corner.

Loki was bent over the table in his cell, a charcoal stick clutched in one white-knuckled hand. The charcoal practically flew across the paper while Loki muttered under his breath, "No, no, no,  _no_." He paused for a moment and stared intently at the paper on the table.

A shiver of unease whispered down Sif's back. Perhaps Loki  _was_ mad after all. He certainly looked it. Dark brows knotted together above glassy, absinthe green eyes burning with some emotion Sif couldn't name. Chewing his lip viciously until a tiny trickle of red spilled down his chin, Loki practically panted for breath, eyes wide and nearly bulging in his skull.

"I cannot bear this," he rasped. His chest heaved with the effort of drawing breath. "Thea, I cannot do this." He lowered his head so that strands of black fell around his face, obscuring his tormented expression. A long, agonized shudder ran through his entire body. The charcoal fell from his fingers to clatter against the tabletop. "I know I promised," Loki half-whispered, half-moaned. "I  _know_ , but I…Thea, I can't bear it. She was only a child. She was only a baby."

Suddenly he lunged to his feet, whipped around the chair, took four savage paces toward the wall, and rammed his fist into the merciless stone as hard as he could. There was a muffled  _crunch_. Loki's entire body spasmed. Shoulders hunching, he dropped his forehead against the icy wall and cradled his hand to his chest. Blood dripped scarlet from his hand to pit-patter on the bare stone floor.

"Damn you," Loki hissed, thumping his forehead against the stone again—a little harder this time. "Damn you," another, harder head-thump, "damn you," and harder, " _damn_ you. Damn you, Thanos. Damn you, Thor. You stole them from me. It's your fault, it's all your fault. If not for you, they would still be with me. I'll see you pay for it, Brother. I'll see you twisting and writhing on the ground like a worm for every sin you've committed against…against…

"Oh, Thea." He drew a shaking breath. "I would have followed you. If they'd let me, I would have followed…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,  _älskling_. I should have been there. I should have been  _with_  you. Forgive me. Forgive me, I…"

Loki trailed off, muttering under his breath so softly that Sif couldn't hear what he said. He fell quiet, still shuddering. But then, with excruciating slowness, Loki straightened up, forcing his injured hand back to his side. His head remained bowed as he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. His shakes gradually subsided. Then he turned, to reveal a haggard face gone ghastly pale. Without another word to whatever entity he might've been speaking to in his madness, he went back to the table. Picking up the charcoal stick with his good hand, he set the point to the paper.

"I must do this. I must not forget this. I must never forget. I won't forget Sophie, Thea. I swear to you, I'll not forget her. Not one moment of…of her time with us, short though it was. And I'll not forget you, either, and our time together…I swear to you." Loki began to sketch again.

Sif waited, every nerve on the alert, as Loki sketched. When that drawing was finished, he set the paper aside and began another drawing, and then another when he'd finished the second. At some point during the third, Loki dropped the stick of charcoal. It hit the table and rolled until it dropped off the edge to clack onto the floor. Loki didn't seem to notice. He simply stared at the drawing for a long moment, throat working convulsively. Then he swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Opening them and wiping his blackened fingers on a piece of cloth, he stood and trudged toward the door in his prison that no doubt led to a privy—a private one, an accommodation most prisoners were not afforded. Sif suspected Odin had provided this and other unusual amenities for Loki in order to console the queen. Just the thought of what Loki had put Queen Frigga through sent a fresh wave of anger boiling through Sif.

The moment the door  _clicked_  shut, Sif made her move. Twining  _seiðr_  around her, she thrust out one hand. The strands of magic wove around her arm and out, down the corridor toward Loki's cell. She saw them as ribbons of iridescent light, but unless another magic-user was looking for magic being worked here, no one else would see. This was a simple enough spell, but difficult for someone to which  _seiðr_  didn't come naturally.

When Sif felt the tendrils of magic slip under the door of Loki's prison—a prison designed to keep Loki's power  _in_ , not out, and porous enough for small magics to seep through—the shield-maiden grinned. Like a breath of wind, her magic swept the three drawings off the table and onto the floor. Another whisper of power whisked the sketches toward the door and under it before swishing them in a tiny whirlwind down the hall toward Sif. The guards glanced at her; she put a finger to her lips, and they nodded. They wouldn't tell the traitor she'd been there.

Quick as a snake, she grabbed the drawings. She knew Thor wanted to see them. Perhaps they would give some clue as to what Loki was planning.

Sif glanced at the first sketch and frowned. What was this? Why would Loki draw such a thing? She went on to the second drawing, then the third, frowning harder all the while. It made no sense. Why in the Nine Realms would the traitor be drawing—

_"Where are they?"_

The anguished demand jerked Sif from her reverie. Peeking back around the corner, she saw Loki braced against the table, panting like a dog again, eyes wild. He swept his hand across the tabletop, sending quills and sticks of charcoal skittering across the smooth surface and to the floor. Blank paper whooshed overhead before settling to the floor with faint fluttering sounds. Loki's eyes raked over the tabletop.

"Where are they?!" Loki cried, turning that half-mad gaze around the room, scanning for the missing drawings. His face had gone nearly gray. He shoved his fingers through his hair before clutching cruelly at the ebony strands. Sif frowned. What was wrong with him? "No. No!  _Where are they?!_ " He roared the question, bellowing it like a wounded beast at the impassive and unresponsive guards. They didn't even so much as glance in Sif's direction.

Suddenly Loki hurled himself at the glass window. His body collided with enough force to knock the wind out of him, but he didn't stop to catch his breath. Instead he hammered at the ensorcelled window, hard enough that Sif's hands ached in sympathy. Humming power filled the air. A dull ache throbbed through Sif's teeth as Loki gathered  _seiðr_  to him, straining against the bonds of his prison, and hurled his power at the ensorcelled glass.

"Tell me where they are!  _Tell me!_ " Another weak ball of power hurtled toward the window.

The guards reacted to  _this_. One leveled his bladed staff at the window, barking at the prince to cease his attack, while the other shot a glance at Sif, who knew exactly what the Asgardian was trying to communicate.

_Fetch the king and the crown prince._

Hugging the mystifying drawings to her chest, the shield-maiden turned on her heel and raced silently away, leaving Loki raging nearly incoherently at the guards far behind.

.

Anxiety was a living, breathing shadow in Thor's belly as he and his father strode through the dungeon corridors side by side, Odin's heavy tread echoing off the walls in counterpoint to Thor's own. Frantic thoughts raced through Thor's mind with every step. What was Loki doing? Why would he try to escape after accepting Odin's bargain? There was only one possibility that made total sense to Thor, but he didn't want to consider it…yet.

If Loki had been lying all this time, if his desire to avenge Thea and Sophie was all an act, he would have no reason to fear Odin rescinding the bargain to aid Loki in seeking his revenge. He could simply lull them all into a false sense of security, then escape.

Yet mad as Loki was, he was still cunning enough and clever enough to know things weren't there yet. None of the Asgardian royal family trusted him enough to make this prison-break make any sense.

Thor thought of Sif racing into the informal sitting room where Thor and his parents had been discussing Loki, discussing whether he would or would not accept Odin's bargain—and whether Odin would or would not accept Loki's story—when the shield-maiden had rushed in, crying that the prison guards needed both king and prince, that Loki seemed to be trying to escape.

Now the king and crown prince found the other prince on his knees in his cell, forehead and palms pressed to the window, fingers curled into claws against the glass. Thin smears of crimson marred the otherwise pristine window. Thor saw Loki's fingernails had splintered and cracked, and blood seeped from beneath the nail-beds. His fingertips had been scraped raw as well. He shook as if with a palsy, and his labored breathing echoed in the dungeon. Even as Thor and Odin approached, Loki thunked his head against the glass.

"Where are they?" Loki snarled without lifting his head. "Who stole them? Who  _stole_ them? Tell me, curse you! Tell me what you did with them!" Those clawed fingers skidded down the glass with an eerie  _skreee_ sound, leaving translucent trails of blood behind. "I'll kill you if you do not tell me  _now!_ "

Odin opened his mouth, but Thor laid a restraining hand on his father's arm, gesturing him back where Loki couldn't see him. Odin glanced at his heir, but Thor's gaze was elsewhere. Keen warrior eyes took in the prison cell at a glance: the scattered paper, the quills and charcoal pencils everywhere, the blood smeared on the glass and on one wall, and—most telling of all—the lack of charred pages in the fireplace.

"Loki?" Thor stepped into the light and spoke gently to his brother. Slowly, as if his head were an almost-impossible weight upon his shoulders, Loki looked up at his foster brother with a face eerily blank. "What's the matter?"

Something flickered in the depths of that emerald gaze—a flash of electric blue, there and gone—before the other prince closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the glass again. "Where are they?"

"Where are what, Loki?"

Wearily, the prince replied, "You know what." An even wearier shake of the head. "Why, Thor? Why did you take them?"

"I took nothing, Brother, I swear to you," Thor said. "What have you lost?"

Why was it so hard to breathe? Something about the sight of his little brother looking so despondent, and the words they both spoke, struck a chord in Thor. There was something about this...

The storybook; Thor remembered now. They had had a similar conversation that long ago day when Tyr had stolen Loki's favorite storybook, utterly destroying it to get Loki back for some petty, inconsequential thing. At the time, Loki hadn't known who'd done it. He'd come into his bedroom to find the ripped-out pages scattered across the chamber floor, done a frantic search for the elaborately-tooled leather binding, and found it in the midden pile. That was one reason Loki had refused to speak to anyone about the event; at the time, he hadn't known the identity of the culprit. Just like now…and perhaps, just like that day, Thor would be the one to help.

"Brother, I would never deliberately steal something from you," Thor murmured, using that memory as a weapon to cut down the walls of ice around his little brother. "What have you lost? Perhaps I can help you find it."

Silence stretched out between them, strained with the weight of centuries and the betrayals Loki still hadn't explained, but at last the green-eyed prince raised his head again and whispered in a voice heavy with bitter defeat, "Someone stole my drawings. I need them back. I promised…I need them back. They are part of my penance. I have to get them back."

Someone had stolen Loki's drawings? No charred paper in the fireplace, Thor reminded himself. But how had anyone gotten into the enchanted prison without the guards seeing the intruder? Unless…

A sliver of memory pierced Thor's brain. When Sif had come in to pass on the guards' message, she'd been holding papers in one hand. Thor had glimpsed elegant lines and shading, but he'd been distracted at the time. His only thought had been that he hadn't known Sif could draw. Now the thought nagged at him. Sif  _couldn't_ draw. He would've known; they'd been friends long enough. Where had she gotten those pictures?

But she'd promised not to speak to Loki…

Loki didn't know who'd stolen his drawings…if they  _had_  been stolen, and he wasn't slipping further into madness. If Sif had come to speak to him, he would have suspected her right from the beginning. The trust, friendship, and affection that had existed between Loki, Sif, and the Three had been irreparably shattered, and Loki knew it. He would've suspected her if she'd come to see him.

Unless she  _hadn't_  spoken to him, thus keeping her word to Thor, but had somehow gotten her hands on the drawings anyway…she would have seen nothing wrong with taking them, to use them as a tool to get more information about Loki—whom she considered a threat to her prince.

"I will see if I can find them," Thor assured his brother. This wasn't the Loki he'd spoken to earlier that day, nor was this the one he'd battled on Midgard. This was…he didn't know this Loki, broken by madness and guilt and rage. Loki's face had been emptied of any emotion by his exhaustion. Didn't he feel his injuries? His hands were shadowed violet and blue, bruised raw in places, smeared with blood. He didn't seem to notice at all. "Or," Thor added, "I'll find whoever might have taken them. In the meantime, you need a healer."

"No," Loki hissed. Sapphire sparked in his eyes before being swallowed by jade once more. "No healers. I want my drawings back, Thor."

"Loki, your hands—"

"It's nothing," he snapped, looking away. One damaged appendage came up to tangle in a thin chain around the pale throat, to clutch at the gold and emerald ring hanging from the thick chain. Thor had never seen that ring before. Loki must have been wearing it beneath his shirt all this time. "Forget it. Someone stole from me. They have to pay."

Thinking of Sif, Thor made no promise to that effect. He merely said, "I will do what I can, Brother. In exchange, I want more of your story when I return."

Emerald eyes snapped to Thor's face. "Find what was stolen and I will give you what you want."

.

Thor stood outside Sif's door, swallowing back the anger surging up in him like the tide. Her door was open, and she sat in a chair, staring at a piece of paper in her lap. Two others rested near at hand. Instinct told the crown prince that it was exactly what he was looking for.

"Sif," Thor said softly. Her head snapped up, the firelight sheening the spill of her long, dark hair. The moment she saw Thor, a tinge of unease colored her features. "Where did you get those?"

After a moment, she sighed. "You said once that you wished to know what he was drawing all the time, so I endeavored to find out."

"You shouldn't have taken those," he growled, striding into her sitting room and kicking the door shut behind her. "Do you have any idea what you've done to Loki? My brother is frantic—"

"He's not your brother, Thor!" Sif cried, bringing him up short. "Why do you care what happens to him? He betrayed you. He tried to kill you more than once! He's dangerous, he's evil, and he's attempting to manipulate you. Loki cannot be trusted! Forget about him!"

A thousand thoughts and emotions clamored inside the Asgardian warrior, each one raging to be heard and acknowledged. None would help him now, so he attempted to let them go, and held out his hand. "Give me the drawings, Sif."

Hesitating only a moment, she handed him the three sketches. "I can make neither heads nor tails of them," she said softly, without looking at him. Thor gazed down at the topmost drawing and frowned.

It was an angled drawing of Loki…and a woman.

Sketch-Loki settled into the comfortable cushions of a plush Midgardian couch, legs stretched out before him. He wore Midgardian garb, as well—the heavy, durable blue trousers known as jeans, a sleeveless shirt, and a plaid overshirt. Thor remembered Jane had said they were called "lumberjack shirts." The woman lay draped across the cushions, her head pillowed on her arms on the arm of the couch opposite Loki, her hair tumbling over the couch-arm to touch the floor. Unfortunately, the angle obscured her face. Her feet were in Loki's lap; Loki seemed to be in the middle of rubbing them.

The drawing was composed so that the emphasis was on the woman. The prince was in the background, more an implied shadow than anything else, but Thor recognized him nonetheless. The focal point of the piece seemed to be the jeweled ring on the girl's finger, one Thor thought he vaguely recognized. In front of the pair was something Thor was surprised Loki knew about—a Midgardian device known as a television. The sketch was angled so that the viewer could just see the television screen. To the crown prince's surprise, he realized the image on the screen was of a man dueling with a horse, the horse armed with a sword in its teeth and the man armed with a skillet.

Loki smiled in the drawing, but it took a moment for Thor to realize that the smile was gentle, joyous, not cruel or malicious, and that he wasn't looking at the screen of the television. He was looking at the girl. Was this Thea? What was this drawing of? A futile wish for the future…or a memory?

Thor skipped to the next drawing, of the same girl splashing in the rolling ocean surf in a knee-length dress. It was almost as if Loki had caught her in the act of twirling in a circle amidst the sea spray, frozen in time. Her hair fanned out around her, obscuring Thor's view of her face, but joy radiated from every line of her body. Her arms were flung out on either side of her as the waves crashed over her feet. There was no one else in this picture.

When he reached the final drawing, Thor sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Loki stood beside a window. The curtains were filmy with the moonlight pouring in through the glass, gilding the dark hair and sharp cheekbones. Curled up in the window-seat with her back to Loki's chest, feet pressed against the side of the casement opposite herself and Loki, sat a woman with her face turned away from the viewer. She wore a night-robe, but that didn't hide the gently swelling curve of her belly where her hands rested…over Loki's. Thor's brother wasn't smiling in this picture; his face was shadowed by anguish and dread.

Something clicked into place. Thor was fairly sure of something about Thea—she'd been married, probably. Had a husband, been with child when she was captured by the Chitauri. Poor girl. Had that been part of why Loki had fallen for her? Her obvious distress, her need for an ally and a friend under such circumstances? Or had it been something else?

Or could it be that this was  _not_  a memory, but another futile wish of Loki's? Loki, wishing for a child with a Midgardian? It didn't make sense.

Whatever these drawings meant, Thor would have to ask his brother…but since he'd managed to retrieve them, Loki would have to answer his question. He would have to explain to the crown prince the exact meaning of these sketches, especially the third.

And then Thor would find out just what had happened to his little brother while imprisoned by the Chitauri.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the fic is a quote from Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven." It actually goes something like, "Here I flung wide the door…Darkness there, and nothing more."


End file.
